


Trapped

by MegaGhostQueen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Closeted Character, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Draco Malfoy, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Oblivious Harry, POV Third Person, Pining, Rewrite, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26075374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegaGhostQueen/pseuds/MegaGhostQueen
Summary: 6th year rewrite where Draco gets the ending he deserves and Harry has more than one reason to spy on his nemesis, even if he doesn't realize it yet.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 45
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! It's been a hot sec but I really wanted to get back into writing. The world is so unpredictable and fucked up right now, and I feel like our lives are a little too similar to dystopian YA literature than we would like. I mean, a government who takes no action, young people having to save the world, the list goes on. I hope this story brings some entertainment into your day, and please leave a like and a comment if you enjoy what you read!

Harry couldn’t fully wrap his head around it. He had arrived at the Burrow after having been kept at the Dursleys for another summer, his fifth since he had been to Hogwarts for the first time, and he always forgot how difficult it was to reintegrate himself back into the wizarding world. How could so much change in such a short amount of time? 

Disappearances, Dementor attacks, Death Eaters at large all over England. So much was happening so fast. He thought there would be panic, chaos in the streets, revolution even, given how the Ministry was handling everything. But in Diagon Alley the only things that hinted to the new dangers lurking around every corner were a few boarded up shops and more wanted posters. Harry couldn’t believe that with everyone’s lives perpetually at risk, people could still talk about mundane things such as how expensive potions ingredients were getting these days, or the latest Seeker Weekly issue that had been released.

He noticed this as he, Hermione, and the Weasleys visited the twins’ shop. He looked forward to seeing Fred and George and how far they had come since selling the Skiving Snackboxes in school. But he couldn’t help feeling a bit ignorant, and a little guilty, walking into the joke shop when just a few minutes prior they had to pass Ollivander’s wand shop, knowing full well why it was closed. 

Harry found it much harder to digest the consequences of this war than the other members of the magical community. Even the adults like Molly Weasley would take a grave look at the list of new disappearances in the Daily Prophet, and almost immediately brush the crumbs of her breakfast off her robes and casually remind Arthur he would need to buy Chizpurfle fangs on his way home.

The only other person who seemed to understand was Hermione. 

“It is strange to see how anyone could be thinking of anything else other than what You Know Who is doing,” she had said when Harry had asked her about it, “but doesn’t it make sense? People are scared, Harry, they need to feel like things are normal.”

“But they’re not normal!” He had said, frustrated. 

“I know that Harry, I think everyone knows that deep down. But sometimes it can be hard for people to internalize so much tragedy at once.”

Of course she’s right, Harry had realized later when he thought about it late into another sleepless night. People are just trying to cope. 

Still, he didn’t feel quite ready to laugh at the “YOU KNOW WHO? MORE LIKE U-NO-POO!” sign in the shop window of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes when he followed the rest of the group inside. 

The inside was overwhelming. The bright colors and moving pictures on the packaging were all trying to grab your attention. Bowls of suspicious looking sweets were strategically placed, begging for someone to try them. Children were running up and down the aisles, fascinated and disturbed by everything they saw. On top of all that you had to keep an eye out so you didn’t get a Fanged Frisbee to the face. It was like trying to make your way through a carnival where all the attractions were trying to trick you into something you couldn’t help but wonder about. While chucking things at you. 

When the twins brought him into the back room he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. However, despite the amazing gifts the twins had given him, he wasn’t able to relax for long. 

“Is it just me, or does Draco look like he doesn’t want to be followed?” Ron pointed out the window at Malfoy’s familiar tall figure and white blond hair looking guardedly over his shoulder before he turned down the street towards Knockturn Alley. “Seems to have given his mother the slip, hasn’t he?”

It was an easy decision. Harry had to know what he was up to. 

Did he genuinely care what Draco was doing in one of the shadiest parts of London? No. But he did care about what would happen if he didn’t know about it. 

Harry silently thanked Dumbledore for telling him to carry his Invisibility Cloak with him everywhere. He pulled it out and without hesitating left the shop into the quiet street. He waited to see if the others would join him, or if the idea that Draco would be up to something worth spying on was too unreasonable. Ron looked around to make sure his family wasn’t paying attention and put some (but not all) of the brightly colored packages he had piled in his arms down on one of the shelves, none of them in the right place. Hermione followed, leaving Ginny with the other older customers surrounding the shelf of Love Potions.

By the time they had all hidden under the Invisibility Cloak Malfoy had already turned a corner at the far end of the passage. 

“Slow down Harry,” Hermione hissed after she had tripped over the tail end of the Cloak for a second time, “we’re going to be seen if you keep rushing ahead.”

“We’re going to lose him!” Harry whispered sharply back, not taking his eyes off the passage in front of them.

They turned a few more corners, always making sure to leave a wide berth in between themselves and the rare stranger they encountered. They didn’t have to follow for long before they arrived at the door Malfoy had entered.

“Borgin and Burkes!” Ron whispered. “What do you think he’s doing in there?”

“Nothing good.” Harry answered, shivering as he remembered his previous visit at the Dark Magic shop. He suddenly remembered that Malfoy had been there as well. Well, technically it had been his father who was actually doing business at the time, hiding Dark Artifacts from being found by the Ministry raids. But he couldn’t help but wonder how even back then they were appearing where they least wanted the other to be. Why couldn’t he and Malfoy, the people who despised each other the most, seem to escape each other?

_ Probably because you follow him down dark alley ways _ , Harry chided himself.

They quickly found a place to hide nearby that allowed them to see inside. The angle wasn’t perfect, all they could see was Borgin – who had not gotten any younger since the last time Harry saw him – and Malfoy’s back. He was speaking animatedly, aggressively, and while Borgin clearly wasn’t pleased with what he was being told, he couldn’t seem to turn him away.

Harry was distracted by shuffling and muttering behind him. 

“What are you-?” He started, irritated.

“Hold on,” Ron muttered, dropping several Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes boxes. He managed to pull out an Extendable Ear and, with some difficulty, was able to toss the other end close enough to listen in on the conversation taking place inside. They managed to hear the tail end of what Malfoy was saying

“- and I need you to tell me how to fix it.” 

“Well, it’ll be hard without being able to see it.” Borgin drawled, giving Malfoy a sour look. “But I suppose I could work around it.”

“Maybe this will help you work a little faster.” Malfoy thrust his left arm forward, showing him something, but from their hiding place it was impossible for Harry to see what it was. He cursed himself for it, because Borgin’s face twisted with anger and fear.

“That will not be necessary.” He said quickly. 

“I will be the one to decide that.” Malfoy turned to look out of the shop window, probably checking to see if anyone had seen what he had threatened the shopkeeper with. Harry could see Borgin’s face twist into a nasty grimace, but when Malfoy whipped back around he just bowed deep and low. 

“Will you be taking it with you now?”

“Of course not you idiot.” Malfoy spat. “Imagine how I would look lugging that thing around with me. Just keep it here, and the others will be around to check on it.”

Harry couldn’t imagine that Borgin liked being insulted, especially by someone as young and pompous as Malfoy, but he didn’t say anything other than, “Of course, sir. Consider it done.”

Then they heard footsteps getting louder and louder, and just in time Ron managed to pull the Extendable Ears under the Invisibility Cloak before Malfoy burst through the door and stalked down the alleyway back towards Diagon Alley. 

* * *

“Can’t you see? It makes so much sense!”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in their own compartment in the Hogwarts express. Hermione was sitting by the door to the compartment reading one of their schoolbooks and petting Crookshanks who was purring softly next to her. Ron was sitting by the window, glancing enviously at Crookshanks in between taking large bites of Pumpkin Pasties. Despite how animatedly Harry was talking neither of them were paying much attention any more.

“Maybe, Harry,” Hermione acknowledged, not looking up from her book, “but it still doesn’t seem very realistic.”

“Could there be any other reason?” Harry asked, not noticing how bored she sounded. He had been talking about Malfoy since the train had left the station, coming up with explanations for what they had seen in Diagon Alley the other day.

“I don’t know, mate,” Ron said with his mouth full, “I mean, Malfoy’s always been a bit of a git. But he wouldn’t become a Death Eater, he doesn’t have the guts.”

Harry had thought of that too. Malfoy had always been a coward, running from a fight when he wasn’t certain he could win. But pride was his biggest flaw. If his family name meant so much to him, wouldn’t it make sense that he would do anything to save it?

“It had to be the Dark Mark on his arm, nothing else would make Borgin that nervous. He’s around Dark Magic all day, he would know if Malfoy was messing with him.”

Lucious Malfoy had failed Voldemort multiple times. He had lost Tom Riddle’s diary four years ago and he had lost the prophecy at the Ministry. This was just the beginning of the list of his failures, and just those items could have gotten anybody killed. With him in Azkaban now, it was only logical for his son to take up his responsibilities and prove himself, as well as redeem his father. 

“Even if it was, Harry,” Hermione said, huffing as she closed her book, keeping her finger as a page marker, “what could you do about it? He wouldn’t plan on doing something in school, not with Dumbledore and the other teachers around. Besides, you could never get a confession out of him if he was up to something. Don’t you have enough going on right now without being concerned about what Malfoy is doing all the time?”

Harry didn’t answer. He couldn’t get Malfoy out of his head even if he wanted to. He knew Malfoy was up to something, and once he thought something suspicious was going on he would never be satisfied until he got to the bottom of it. That’s how he had always been.

Of course, he wasn’t the only who knew that. If anything, Ron and Hermione knew him better than he knew himself. 

“Harry, I know it seems suspicious. I think so too,” Hermione continued, as if she had read his thoughts, “but we have our NEWTs coming up, you have your private lessons with Dumbledore, and you’re Quidditch captain this year as well. Maybe Malfoy shouldn’t be your main priority.”

Harry nodded. He did genuinely agree with her. He wished he could put it out of his mind. But every time he tried to think of something else Malfoy would come barging into his thoughts just like he had out of Borgin and Burkes the other day. 

He didn’t have long to think about it. Both fortunately and unfortunately something equally as frustrating came up which finally managed to get Harry to push Malfoy out of his head, if only briefly. 

One of the Creevey brothers came to drop off a note. Harry groaned when he opened it. 

“What is it?” Ron asked, curiously.

“It’s Slughorn. He wants to have lunch in his compartment. Something called the Slug Club”

Ron grimaced. Hermione pretended to look intrigued, but it just came off as another sort of grimace.

“It’ll be good to get to know him before term starts,” she said, “didn’t Dumbledore want you to get close to him?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, shoving up his wand, the note, and his Invisibility Cloak into his pockets, “but it would be easier if he wasn’t so…” he searched for the word, but he couldn’t find one that properly described Slughorn’s character. He left the sentence hanging in the air, waving pitifully as he closed the compartment door behind him, hoping that on his way the train would suddenly swallow him through the floor and drop him to be run over on the train tracks below.

The Slug Club was just as uncomfortable as Harry thought it would be. Every chance Slughorn got he would somehow redirect the conversation towards Harry. He kept asking him to describe some of his ‘achievements’, as if they were awards he had won and not traumatic life threatening events. 

Luckily Harry was clearly not the only one who thought this gathering was as excruciating as a tea party with a Grindylow and a Blast-Ended Skrewt. The other students wouldn’t talk unless asked a direct question, and even then they would try to get away with saying as little as possible. Harry was surprised to see Ginny was there, but was thankful for it. In between awkward pauses they would make eye contact, trying not to burst out laughing in the oppressively silent compartment.

When it was (finally) over, no one was anxious to hang around. 

“That was harder to sit through than double Potions.” Ginny sighed after they had put significant distance in between themselves and the risk of being pulled into another conversation with Slughorn. 

“Agreed. Next time I get an invitation I think I’ll just jump into the lake instead.” They laughed, walking back towards the compartment to join the others. Before they could leave the car, Harry caught sight of Blaise Zabini, one of the other students who had been held hostage by Slughorn, who walked in the opposite direction. Harry suddenly got an outrageous idea. He could hear Hermione’s voice in his head berating him.  _ What on earth were you thinking? Honestly, Harry, I don’t know why I even bother sometimes. _

“Hey, I’ll catch up with you in a bit, all right?” He said to Ginny, already walking in the other direction.

“What? I-” Ginny just looked confused. “Okay.” She said finally, after Harry had already made his way halfway down the train car.

While he wasn’t an expert at sneaking around, Harry had done it enough to safely say this was his worst job. He got his foot caught in the door as Zabini was closing it behind him, and he even kicked Goyle in the face on his way up into the luggage rack. He even noticed Malfoy’s suspicious look, but when Malfoy went back to his conversation, Harry figured he must have gotten away with it somehow. 

While he was watching the group of Slytherins from his hiding spot, he noticed details about Malfoy he hadn’t managed to catch in Knockturne Alley. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was listless, it had lost some of it’s shine. His irises, which were usually stormy and intense, were now flat and tired. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His hands, when he wasn’t playing with his wand or pressing them around Pansy Parkinson, seemed to be trembling. But when he talked he was just as pretentious as ever. His voice came out slow and strong as if he knew he could take his time because people would listen regardless of what he had to say. The rise and fall of his tone was confident, relaxed even. If he was struggling, the others didn’t seem to notice.

“I don’t think I’m even coming back to school next year.” He declared. Harry was surprised to see he wasn’t the only one taken back by this announcement.

“But why not?” Parkinson whined.

“Don’t you see?” Malfoy gave his famous sneer. Harry knew it all too well. It was practically permanent whenever they were face to face. “This place went to the dogs long ago. With You Know Who rising, things like school aren’t important anymore. It’s all about who you know now.”

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off the blond. He knew that his friends would be wondering where he was. But he couldn’t leave, not when Malfoy was so close to revealing what he was up to. Besides, there was no way he could open the door to the compartment without the Slytherins noticing. He was stuck here until someone decided to leave.

But Malfoy didn’t reveal anything else. Either he had already told them beforehand, or he wasn’t telling them at all. Harry found this odd. Didn’t he usually tell them everything? To be fair, he didn’t know the inner workings of Malfoy’s relationships with his friends, but it still seemed strange. Maybe this was something so big, not even Crabbe and Goyle were important enough to share in this information.

Harry’s legs were cramping. He wished he had hidden in a more comfortable position, but he couldn’t move now without drawing attention to himself. None of the Slytherins decided to leave the compartment. Soon, the light was getting dimmer and dimmer, and Harry knew they had to be getting close to Hogsmeade station. 

Finally, the train eventually slowed to a halt, and there was a rustle as everyone stood and gathered their items. 

Pansy Parkinson was the last of the group to leave except for Malfoy. 

“Aren’t you coming?” She asked.

“I’ll meet you guys there.” Malfoy said, not making eye contact with her. “There’s something I need to check first.”

She reached for his hand. Malfoy pulled her in close and kissed her quickly, apathetically, on the cheek. Harry’s stomach flipped. He had never seen Malfoy act so considerately towards anyone. He wondered what it would be like to be in a relationship with him. 

He didn’t get long to wonder. When Parkinson left Malfoy closed the compartment door behind her, making sure beforehand that there was no one outside. The closest voices were now the students gathering outside on the platform. Harry had never heard the train so silent. 

“What do you want, Potter?” Malfoy said into the empty silence, not turning away from the door. Harry’s stomach jumped into his throat.  _ How did he know? _ His heart started beating in his ears, but he still didn’t move a muscle. Which was stupid because obviously he had already been found out. It was like a part of him thought that if he kept still, maybe Malfoy would think he had imagined it and leave. He was wrong.

“Do you think I’m an idiot? You’re more stupid than I thought.” Malfoy’s shoulders shook with laughter, but he obviously did not find anything funny. “Well? What do you want, Potter? Or maybe you just came because you have some sort of sick obsession.” 

He still hadn’t turned to face him, probably because he still didn’t know exactly where Harry was. But he spoke with his head slightly tilted, looking for a sign of movement just in case. Harry still didn’t move. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. Moving would mean accepting he had been caught. Some part of his brain still hoped that Malfoy would leave him alone.

“Fine.” Malfoy paused. Harry couldn’t tell from his spot in the luggage rack but he thought he could hear Malfoy take a deep breath. Was he collecting himself? Or was it an irritated sigh? “You have three seconds to come out wherever you are or I’ll hex you.”

Harry couldn’t stand the thought of Malfoy counting down. It would feel like a game of hide and seek where the seeker already knew the hiding spots. Like a cat chasing a mouse but the mouse was already caught in a trap.

Harry jumped down from the luggage rack onto the seat and down onto the floor. He tried to take his Invisibility Cloak off and put it in his pocket as quickly as he could, but the second he had made a sound Malfoy turned to see him. 

If Malfoy was surprised about the Cloak he didn’t let himself show it. But he didn’t take his eyes off it, even when Harry put it away. He was dangerously calm and silent for someone who had just found out their childhood nemesis was stalking him. It was as if in that moment he was replaying all their school years, thinking back to every moment where Harry had been using the Cloak to spy on him. Probably even moments where Harry hadn’t been there at all. 

“Malfoy-”

“What do you want?” He interrupted. However calm he was trying to seem Harry could tell he was getting angry. His hands were shaking, and his pupils were constricted. Little black holes in the middle of two small storms. “Are you here to mock me? Talk about my father?”

“I-”

“The only reason I haven’t cursed you yet is because I don’t know what you’re playing at. Shouldn't ‘the Chosen One’-” he said this with a sneer “-be giving out autographs? Kissing babies? Saving mudbloods? What are you getting at following Blaise? It’s not like he or any of these other idiots have anything interesting to say.”

“Maybe if you gave me a chance to actually answer, you would know.” Harry finally cut in. He would have spent more time wondering why Malfoy was so frustrated at his own friends if he wasn’t so furious at him for using that slur. He didn’t need to have been raised in the wizarding world to know that Malfoy was an elitist bigot for using that word. 

“You think you’re so clever aren’t you.” Malfoy looked like he might actually throw his wand away and just punch Harry right in the face.

“Clearly enough to get you to stay behind here talking to me instead of joining your other ‘idiot friends’.” Harry didn’t know why he said it. He was at a disadvantage. He wouldn’t have time to reach for his wand, not when Malfoy’s was already in his hand. His friends didn’t even know where he was, they would have come looking for him by now if they had suspected something. All he knew was that he had to keep Malfoy occupied until he could come up with a plan. “I know what you’re up to.”

“No you don’t.” Malfoy said sharply. “You wouldn’t be standing here in front of me if you did.”

“And why is that?” Harry challenged.

“Because you would be dead.”

Before Harry could react, Malfoy had already spit out a spell that sent him flying. His back slammed hard against the window, sending him falling flat on his face. When he had finally realized what had happened, he couldn’t get back up. He had been stunned.

“I can’t let you get in the way.” Malfoy said. Harry couldn’t see his face, but he couldn’t hear the sneer in his voice. He sounded serious. “If you know what’s good for you you’ll leave me alone.”

Harry saw a shadow pass over the floor in front of him, and he felt his pocket emptying. Malfoy was taking his Invisibility Cloak. Before he could even groan in response he saw a shoe flying towards his face, and a sharp blinding pain in his nose. Blood spurted down through his permanently closed lips and ran down his cheeks onto the floor. 

“That was for my father.” Malfoy spat, the contempt back in his voice. “Enjoy your ride back to London.” Harry could feel the sweep of the Invisibility Cloak as it landed over him, and there was nothing he could do when he saw Malfoy’s shoes disappear behind the compartment door slamming behind him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bubbly thoughts! First potions class! Feels!!!!! perhaps???? *eyes emojis*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all thanks for checking in on the first chapter! I'm having a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy reading it! Let me know what y'all think!

Harry cursed himself for letting himself get caught. He felt frustrated and foolish that he had been beaten in this way. The embarrassment of how easily Malfoy had stunned him – he hadn’t even drawn his wand – far outweighed his worry of how much trouble he was getting in for almost being left on the train.

Eventually, on a fluke, Tonks had found him at the last minute, and they had had to jump onto the platform from the moving train. She had been more confused than anxious to see him. She fixed his broken nose and tried to clean his face and his clothes (without much luck, Tonks had never been good at the cleaning spells). Harry thought at first that she would be the perfect person to talk to about his suspicions. She was a member of the Order of Phoenix, and being one of the younger ones she would be better at understanding him. 

But whatever had changed her mood since the summer hadn’t gotten better. She looked worse since that night he had gotten dropped off at the Burrow. Instead of vibrantly colored hair, it was flat and brown. She barely smiled anymore, and if she could get away with it she would barely make eye contact on their way up to the castle.

“Malfoy?” She exclaimed with surprise when he had told her why he was on the train. “Are you sure Harry?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He confirmed, irritated. If it had been anyone else he would probably have added a snarky remark, but he thought better of it. 

“Why would he do that? Did he catch you by surprise?”

Harry explained to her quickly about what he had heard, skimming over the details that made him seem stupid. Looking back on what had happened, he wondered how on earth he thought he was going to get away with it. He made a mental note to listen more to Hermione. 

“I don’t know Harry, it doesn’t make sense to me. Malfoy might be bad, but he wouldn't go so far as to join You Know Who.” 

They arrived at the gates to the castle and Tonks muttered a spell under her breath, sending a silvery cloud in the vague shape of a creature through the twilight.

“Was that a Patronus?” Harry asked, trying to discern what animal it was.

“Just sending a message.” Tonks said, looking into the darkness where the light had disappeared. “I’ve asked one of the teachers to come and get you.”

Harry was beginning to feel more and more irritated. Was someone going to hold his hand everywhere now?

_ They have a reason, _ a little voice that sounded suspiciously like Hermione said inside his head,  _ look what happens when someone isn’t watching you? You get caught by your enemy and you get your nose broken. _

“Harry,” Tonks turned to him, looking at him in the eyes for the first time since she found him, “you have enough to be worrying about right now, you can’t let childish fights get in the way-”

“Thanks, I know. I’ll make sure to be careful.”

Harry hadn’t meant to sound short with her. He knew that with all the hassle of safety for his sake it was stupid to get into unnecessary trouble. It had been a mistake to get caught by Malfoy, but he knew no one would believe him if he told him what Malfoy was up to. Even Ron and Hermione didn’t really believe him. 

He would have to be more cautious from now on, but there was no way he was going to stop trying to find out what Malfoy was doing.

_ “If you know what’s good for you you’ll leave me alone.” _

Malfoy was pretentious and arrogant. If he was up to something not only would he want people to know about it, he would want people to know  _ he  _ had done it. The only reason he liked to get Harry involved at all is so he could prove even he could beat the Boy Who Lived. For him to not even include his own friends in what he was doing was very unlike him. 

Whatever Malfoy was doing was becoming more and more sinister. Harry didn’t know if he thought Malfoy was evil. Horrible and elitist yes, but would he join forces with Voldemort if he had to? Maybe he was being forced? Voldemort often threatened and manipulated people into doing what he wanted, why would Malfoy be any different?

_ Because he’s a git, that’s why _ . 

Harry couldn’t help but let his childhood biases get in the way. Since the moment they met they had done nothing but argue and fight. They were always on opposing sides, and even though Harry didn’t like to make enemies it felt like it had been destined to be this way.

* * *

Hermione had reacted in a way that was to be expected. 

“Oh, honestly Harry, how else did you think that could end?” She was pacing in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. She would probably have reacted better if Harry hadn’t waited right before she was going to bed. Now she was tired and frustrated. “You should have left after you got your foot caught in the door? I know you hate Malfoy but you know he’s smart enough to pick up on something like that.”

“I know, it was-”

“Absolutely ridiculous! And you already lost us 50 points before the term even started! Professor Snape is our Defense Against the Arts teacher now Harry, you still have to pretend to respect him.”

Ron groaned into one of the red cushions on the sofa. 

“Don’t remind me, Hermione, you’re making me depressed.”

Harry had been just as surprised as everybody else when it was announced that Slughorn would be taking up Potions, and Snape would finally get the job he had been wanting for so long. 

“Don’t worry, Ron,” Harry reminded him, “we don’t even have to take Potions this year. We didn’t get Outstanding on the exam last year.”

Ron’s face practically illuminated.

“Blimey, Harry, you’re right! I had completely forgotten. Potions was just always something that we had to deal with, I forgot it’s not mandatory this year –”

“Don’t look too happy, Ron, it’s embarrassing.” Hermione sat down at one of the armchairs and pulled out her book. It was different from the one she had been reading on the train. Had she finished it while Harry had been gone? “I know you don’t particularly enjoy schoolwork, but with everything happening don’t you want to feel prepared? If you paid attention you could actually learn something important.”

“Hermione, when has anything you learned in Ancient Runes saved your life?”

“Well, maybe not anything to date, but you never know –”

With Hermione and Ron bickering, and the warm fire in front of him, Harry couldn’t help but start to zone out. He was tired after everything that had happened today, and a warm feeling was beginning to settle inside him, one that he only felt when he was at Hogwarts. 

The events of the day started to replay in his mind, and he thought back to what he had heard on the train. 

He had told Hermione and Ron why he had been late to the start of term feast, but he hadn’t told them the details of what he had learned. He technically hadn’t gained any new information, and he knew that if he was to convince them he would have to find proof of what Malfoy was up to. Whatever it was, he knew he would find out. 

Harry ran his finger down his nose. There was no evidence anything had happened to it. Tonks had done a good job, but he still winced thinking about how easily Malfoy had rammed his shoe into his face. Of bloody course, even when he was breaking noses, he still did it with elegance. Just like everything he did. What a twat.

But Malfoy could be gentle. Harry knew that now. He had seen him kiss Pansy Parkinson. Even thinking about it, Harry felt his stomach turn again. It hadn’t looked forced, but Malfoy still looked like he hadn’t meant it. Like he was doing it out of routine. Or out of necessity. 

As Harry replayed that moment in his head over and over again he felt like there were sparklers being set off in his stomach, little explosive flames jumping in and out of his insides. Apart from his kiss with Cho last year, he had never been with anyone like that. What was it like to be so close to someone you could reach out and kiss them just as easily as if you were waving goodbye? What was it like to be like that with Malfoy?

A wave of confusion and disgust passed over Harry like a Disillusionment Charm. How on earth could he think that about Malfoy? And why was he still oddly (and terrifyingly) intrigued by it?

* * *

Of course, with his brilliant timing, Harry had just taken a large bite of toast as Professor McGonagall approached him in the Great Hall the next morning with a stack of parchments. 

“Good morning, Mr. Potter,” she said, barely looking at him as she riffled through the parchment. All he could do was nod, still chewing. “Let’s see here… Well, this can’t be right. It says here that you haven’t signed up for Potions at the NEWT level, it was my understanding that you wanted to become an Auror?”

Harry almost choked as he tried to swallow his toast. “I only got Exceeds Expectations in my OWL. I thought I had to get an Outstanding?”

“Yes, quite right,” McGonagall looked down at him with a slightly disapproving look, “at least, when Snape was teaching the class. Now that that position has been taken over by Professor Slughorn, he is happy to accept those with an Exceeds Expectations.”

Harry was surprised that after all of the life threatening situations he had managed to escape from he still couldn’t find a believable excuse on time.

“But… I don’t have any ingredients – books and stuff –”

“I’m sure Professor Slughorn will understand,” McGonagall tapped her wand against the parchment on the top of the pile and handed it to Harry who was still stammering, wondering how this had managed to happen. “And take Mr. Weasley with you, he looks far too happy.”

On the way down to the dungeons, both Harry and Ron wallowed in their misfortune.

“I can’t believe we were so close!” Ron groaned. “I mean, I bet I won't even need Potions in whatever job I get! Just cause I don’t know what I want to do right now… How did she even weasel you into it?”

“I don't even know how it happened,” Harry said. He was telling the truth, but he knew if Ron had been present for the conversation he would have found a way out of it.

Slughorn was in the middle of speaking when they walked into the class, but they can’t have been too late because some students were still pulling out their books.

“Ah, Potter!” Slughorn held his arms out, completely ignoring that Ron had been the one to enter the classroom first. “So glad you could join us!” 

“Yeah, uh, thanks.” Harry said awkwardly. Why was it that whenever you walked in late everyone watched you like you had just murdered someone? “I – We didn’t know we had made it into the class, so we don’t actually have any of our stuff.”

The class was silent apart from a snort from the back of the class. It wasn’t hard to tell where it had come from. Sitting alone at a table at the very back of the classroom was Malfoy, his signature sneer on his face. Despite how obvious it had been, all Slughorn did was smile at Harry.

“Not to worry, I’m sure there’s everything you need in the cupboard until you get your ingredients. There are also spare books in the cupboard right there by the empty cauldrons. Now, as I was saying…”

Both Harry and Ron picked up spare cauldrons and made their way to the cupboard Slughorn had indicated. When Ron opened the doors, there were only two copies of Advanced Potions left. One in near perfect condition (at least, for a spare textbook), and one that looked like Tom Riddle’s Diary after it had made its way through the sewers and back. Both Ron and Harry glanced at each other, realized that neither of them were going to offer the good one up, and dived for it. 

Harry, despite everything he had done in his life, was not physically strong. Most of the exercise he had gotten in the first ten years of his life was running away from Dudley and his gang, and, after all, Quidditch was not a sport that built up your muscle mass, per say. Ron, tall and lanky as he was, had grown up in the company of five older brothers. It wasn’t much of a contest.

Harry turned around from the shelf, observing more closely his distressed copy of Advanced Potions. It looked depressing. It had probably been rotting in that cupboard since before he was born. There were mysterious stains all over it, and the text itself was covered in scribbled notes and drawings. By the time Harry had made sure there wasn’t another copy lying around in the cupboard in which the pages weren’t falling out of the book cover, Ron had already sat next to Hermione at the only empty seat left at the table of Gryffindors. Now the only place left was…

Of course.

Harry walked silently, careful not to interrupt what Slughorn was saying, all the way to the back of the classroom next to Draco Malfoy.

He had expected the blond to make some snide comment, or even make a jab at him about their last encounter on the train. But as Harry sat down he noticed Malfoy looked as pathetic as his ruined Potions book. He was slouched over his books, his chin resting on his arms. He didn’t even acknowledge anyone had sat next to him. 

At the sight of the Slytherin Harry’s musings from the night before came back with a vengeance. How smoothly he had kissed Parkinson. A new wave of firecrackers went off in Harry’s stomach, which he suppressed swiftly and suddenly. He couldn’t think about that now. There was nothing to think about.

“So that’s what you will all be working on today!” Slughorn announced. “One perfect draught of Living Death. And for some little extra incentive…” He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a tiny vial, no bigger than a peach pit. “Can anyone tell me what this might be?”

Hermione’s hand shot up. Slughorn nodded at her enthusiastically.

“That’s Felix Felicis, or Liquid Luck.”

“Very good Miss. Granger,” he smiled, “and do you know what it does?”

“Well, it’s said that the drinker will find that all their endeavors will succeed.”

“Very right! At least, until the effects wear off. Ten points to Gryffindor!” Slughorn chuckled. “Yes, it is quite a remarkable potion, very difficult to brew. So this is what I offer to each and every one of you. To the student that brews the best potion today, I will give you this tiny vial of Liquid Luck.”

Everyone was suddenly interested. Even Malfoy moved for the first time since Harry entered the classroom to raise his head and get a better look of the reward. 

“Well, off you go!”

There was a sudden rush to open books and rush to gather supplies. Harry was frustrated to find that the previous owner of his book hadn’t spared a single page from his vandalism. Instructions were crossed out, notes were scribbled in the margins. It was practically illegible. 

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Potter.” Malfoy commented while he pulled out his scales, glancing towards Harry’s book. “Your potions skills were never stellar to begin with. Maybe now you’ll make something actually drinkable.”

“Malfoy if you say one more thing I’ll-”

“What? Break my nose?” Malfoy gave one last sneer before turning towards his own book.

Harry was so furious no words escaped his mouth. He stood in frustrated silence, staring at the blond, trying to come up with something scathing to say. However, it dawned on him that Malfoy wasn’t getting any pleasure out of insulting him. While he usually gained a lot of joy from seeing Harry defeated or trapped in a corner, he seemed now to be doing out of habit, or for appearances, rather than for his own enjoyment. He looked tired and miserable. And like he was constantly thinking of something else.

Harry left it. For the first time he came to the conclusion that making Malfoy angry wasn’t going to bring him any satisfaction. Besides, he had to make a potion before the end of class and he didn’t know where to begin. And he hated to admit it, but Malfoy was right. Now that he wasn’t sitting next to Hermione anymore, his potions skills were only going to be slightly below average if he couldn’t decode the gibberish scrawled over his textbook.

As he worked, he realized that there was actually a method to the scribbles. The previous owner of this book had crossed out a critical mass of the information, but he always replaced it. On top of that Harry found that when he followed the written instructions (there was really no choice, he couldn’t follow the original text even if he wanted to) the process went a lot smoother. As the class period went on, he realized he was having a lot more success than the others in the class. Even Hermione seemed to be struggling.

~~_ Cut the Sopophorous bean and empty juice into mixture. _ ~~ _ Crush it with the flat of the blade, releases more juice. _

“What are you doing?” Malfoy asked as he watched Harry pour the Sopophorous bean juice into his cauldron. “I knew you were daft, Potter, but can’t you read?”

Harry didn’t respond. He didn’t know how it was working, but he knew that following the vandalism was working. Although Malfoy didn’t make another comment, Harry could see out of the corner of his eye that Malfoy also used the flat of his blade to crush the ingredient instead of following the instructions.

By the end of the lesson, Slughorn announced that time was up, and was making his way to see everyone’s progress. He looked a little disappointed at some of the results. Ron’s hadn’t impressed him at all. Until he had gotten to Harry’s table, Hermione was the only student who had gotten more than an eyebrow raise from him. 

When he looked over Malfoy’s shoulder he gave a smile, and Malfoy looked more hopeful than Harry had seen in a long while. But that look was quickly wiped from his face when Slughorn came to see the contents of Harry’s cauldron.

“Well done, Harry!” He exclaimed. “This is the best draught of Living Death I have seen from a student in years! Well, I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you.” If looks could kill, Harry would have been trampled by a horde of Hippogriffs. The other students were staring daggers at him, frustrated that somehow, by a fluke, he had managed to accomplish what no one else had been able to do. He suddenly felt very aware of where he was holding his arms. Where were they supposed to go if they weren’t doing anything?

The worst look was from Malfoy. Even though halfway through he had begun to copy what Harry was doing, he would have most likely had the best result. He didn’t need Snape’s favouritism to get high marks in Potions,it was one of his talents. The look he gave Harry wasn’t just anger or jealousy, he had gotten many of those before. He looked defeated _ ,  _ helpless even. The others were annoyed they hadn’t won the prize, but he looked like he had depended on it.

Whatever he was trying to do was putting a lot of strain on him. It was too much for him, and he didn’t know what to do. And Harry could relate to that. It was probably the first time he had felt sympathy for Malfoy at all.

He suddenly felt very guilty.

Harry was thinking about all of this as he accepted his reward and put away all his materials. He couldn’t get Malfoy’s look out of his head. Before Malfoy could grab his bag and leave, Harry stopped him. 

“Malfoy, wait.” 

It came out of his mouth before he knew what he was doing.

“I don’t have time to get into arguments with you all the time, Potter.” Malfoy didn’t even meet his eyes as he got up and left the classroom. Harry had to rush to collect his things – making sure to grab the vandalised textbook – to catch up with him. “You would think that being so big headed would make your legs too tired to chase after me all the time-”

“Good lord, Malfoy, could you for one second stop being such an enormous prick long enough for someone to actually say something.” Harry was getting angry. Why did he think this would be a good idea. How could he have felt sorry for this git? “Maybe, if you weren’t so busy insulting everyone you might find that they’re trying to help you.”

Malfoy stopped walking to turn around. He huffed impatiently, which made a new wave of annoyance bubble up within Harry. “Help me? What are you getting at?”

“I mean what I’m trying to say is,” Harry was scrambling for time, picking words out of his head at random and placing them in a sentence that he hoped would make sense. What on earth was he saying? “I know you’re trying to do something – I don’t know what – and I know you can’t go to your friends for help for some reason, so maybe… ” What the fuck, Harry? “I can help you instead.”

Harry didn’t even know why he was saying this. If Malfoy offered him help he would also be suspicious. But he knew that by doing this he could either find out what Malfoy was doing or help him out of whatever trouble he had gotten himself into. 

“I just – I know you’re struggling with something, I can tell. If you want, I could even give you this,” he held up the bottle of Felix Felicis, “I don’t even know what I would use it for. I know we’ve never agreed on anything, but whatever’s making you so miserable seems bad, and I know what it’s like to be in a tight spot.”

That had been the wrong thing to say. To be fair, there probably hadn’t been a right thing to say, this whole situation was hopeless. 

Malfoy took one last contemptuous look at Harry and the bottle of Liquid Luck in his hand before he turned around and stalked off.

“Piss off, Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey! Hope y'all liked it! The little kudos button takes one second to click and makes my whole day! Let me know what y'all think, and don't forget to share with others you know who are bored in quarantine and need a lil drarry to waste time :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MORE SPICES!!! MORE DANGER!!!! MORE TENSION!!!! AHHHHHH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey y'all!! here's another chapter for u guys! Had a lot of fun writing this one, the vibes are *chefs kiss* immaculate. we all know we love that enemies to lovers tension *eyes emoji*

Harry would have thought that with everything going on time would have been crawling by at a snail’s pace. But in between Snape terrorizing them in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Dumbledore’s extra lessons, and the brutal amount of work they had been getting, weeks flew by before they knew it. 

On top of that, the tensions that had been rising throughout the country were beginning to seep through the castle walls, and not even Hogwarts was safe from the anxiety that was growing everywhere. The deaths and disappearances become more and more common, and every morning students would crowd around the Daily Prophet hoping that a familiar name would not appear on the list. 

Rumors were spreading about Voldemort and his followers. No one knew where they were or what they were planning, all anyone knew was that they were getting stronger, and more magical creatures were turning sympathetic to their cause. 

“How could they not do anything?” Ron exclaimed one morning at breakfast as Dean Thomas read aloud from a particularly scathing article berating several centaur herds around Yorkshire for declaring themselves neutral in the war. “I mean, how could they just try and ignore everything that’s happening? Aren’t they the ones always going on about balance?”

“It’s not completely unexpected, Ron.” Hermione said as she sat down across from him. “Wizards have always looked down on other magical creatures because of their own elitism. Why would the centaurs want to help the Ministry of Magic now when they have never acknowledged centaurs as real people?”

“Well they’re not exactly making it easy are they! If anything, they’re the ones that think they’re superior to wizards! Always going on about the stars and all that rubbish, they don’t pay attention to what’s happening right in front of them! Well, they’re mistaken if they think You-Know-Who will leave them alone if he wins.”

Hermione struggled to contain her anger. Harry put his head down and immediately became very interested in his eggs. 

“Honestly, Ron, do you know how ignorant you sound right now? If you payed attention in History of Magic you would know that the Ministry of Magic have never respected centaurs. I know I don’t particularly agree with them, I don’t think Astrology is a very accurate form of magic, but I don’t think that whether or not you have a wand should define how much the Ministry of Magic has to respect you as a magical being.”

Ron at this point was shoveling food in his mouth as he scoffed at what Hermione was saying.

“Are you even listening to yourself? That’s not the point is it? The point is they’re not helping us against You-Know-Who, and that’s basically admitting that they’re on his side!”

“I’m not saying I agree with what they’re doing, I just don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect that they wouldn’t willingly offer up help to their oppressors-”

“Their  _ oppressors _ ?” Ron’s ears were going red. As he spoke he flung his fork around, flicking pits of breakfast everywhere. Harry was forced to leave the Great Hall and actually go to Potions early to escape their bickering.

This continued for a while. Ron and Hermione could barely sit together for a few minutes before getting into an argument about something. They were not the only ones. It was impossible to not feel the effects of the socio-political changes inside their school. Debates broke out in class, friends fought with each other. Once a duel broke out in the hallway. No one was hurt, but there were a few disgruntled paintings and a dented suit of armor who were not happy. 

It was almost as bad as the year before when the students had been divided in between those who believed the Ministry and those who thought everything they were doing was a load of rubbish. The difference now is that the situation was less black and white. The question wasn’t about whether or not the Ministry of Magic was corrupt, the question was now, who can you trust?

Harry felt extremely guilty. He wanted to be more involved. He wished he could stay focused during these arguments, maybe even contribute something to the discussions. However, there were other things he couldn’t stop thinking about.

Harry had found the name of the previous owner of his Potions textbook, someone called the Half Blood Prince. He would spend hours reading it late into the night, learning to easily decipher the Prince’s handwriting. He realized that he didn’t only change the instructions of the potions recipes, but he would include additional notes in the margins that had nothing to do with potions. 

Spells Harry had never heard of before, jinxes he had never seen. Harry had considered asking Hermione about them, but ever since their first potions lesson, she had become weary of the Half Blood Prince. 

“I don’t think you should be using that book anymore, Harry.” Hermione said when he had told her about it. “It doesn’t seem right to me.”

“You’re just annoyed that someone’s finally better than you at something.” Ron interjected. “You’ve got to get away from Malfoy, Harry, you should next to us next class.”

Hermione had gone pink in the face, “I am not, Ron! Besides, Harry is better than me at plenty of things. I just think it’s very suspicious. Besides, doesn’t it seem uncomfortably familiar to you two?”

Both Ron and Harry just stared at her with blank faces. She rolled her eyes so hard Harry wondered if they would get stuck like that. 

“I can’t believe this. Doesn’t this remind you of a certain diary we found four years ago? With an malevolent presence hidden inside it? That intrigued the readers enough so that eventually it could manipulate your mind?”

“Oh come on, Hermione!” Ron laughed with the realization. “That belonged to You-Know-Who! What, you think one of his Death Eaters was sneaking around Slughorn’s classroom waiting for Harry to come in so he could chuck a textbook at him?”

“I just don’t think it’s out of the question.” Hermione said, defiantly. “I still believe you get rid of it, Harry.”

That had been the end of that conversation, and since then, Harry had avoided bringing it up again. He didn’t consider getting rid of the book for a second, but he only opened it at night when he was alone, or during class, when the only other person who could see was Malfoy.

Harry had unfortunately not had the chance to switch places. Slughorn had mentioned that because of ‘his dwindling memory’ it would be easier if every remained at their original places, so he and Malfoy were cursed with having to spend four hours a week in each other’s presence.

Although usually this would have been absolutely unbearable, Harry found that it wasn’t as grueling as he had originally expected. Malfoy didn’t mention their argument. In fact, he barely acknowledged Harry’s presence at all. Apart from a sneer whenever they happened to make eye contact, and an eye roll when Slughorn praised Harry’s work, Malfoy kept to himself. 

Harry did notice that whenever he strayed from the original instructions of the recipe, choosing instead to follow the Half Blood Prince’s advice, Malfoy would sometimes copy him. While that should have irritated him, he didn’t actually mind that much. In fact, every time Malfoy would subtly glance over at his hands, observing how he stirred clockwise instead of counter-clockwise, finely dicing instead of just slicing some ingredients, Harry was filled with a deep satisfaction he had never felt before. Something about getting this type of attention from the blond, very different from what he usually got, made the firecrackers go off in his stomach again. 

After a few weeks, Harry realized that he was beginning to make mistakes. Nothing to threaten his position at the top of the class and as Slughorn’s favorite, but he began to get distracted.

As often as Malfoy would glance over to copy off of him, he would glance over to observe Malfoy. Some days the circles under his eyes would go from grey to purple, and his eyes, from what Harry could see under his heavy lids, would be bloodshot. Other days he would look as if he had slept for a week. 

His hands, pale and soft would always be fidgeting with something. His fingers would be nimbly fingering the pages of his book, or turning his quill over and over in his hands. Sometimes, Harry noticed, they would start to tremble, and Malfoy would firmly cross them on the desk and lean his chin on his arms, making it seem as if he was so bored he could barely bother to pay attention. If he was in the middle of potion making, he would run his hands through his hair and take a deep breath as if trying to calm himself.

Harry was fascinated. He felt guilty staring at Malfoy when he was clearly struggling with something. But he still couldn’t help but feel his strongest connection to the Slytherin when he realized that he was human too. When Malfoy seemed vulnerable, all Harry wanted to do was reach out to him.

One day, when he was waiting for his potion to simmer so he could continue on the next step, he glanced over as Malfoy was peeling Fluxweed seeds. When Malfoy was focused like this, staring so intensely at what he was doing it was as if he was burning a hole into the desk, he wouldn’t notice when Harry was looking at him. 

Some strands of his hair fell over his face, blocking his eyes from view. Harry trailed his eyes down his jawline, down his pale neck. He felt a stirring deep in his gut, but he suppressed it. Why was feeling so anxious? There was nothing wrong with what he was doing. He looked at Malfoy all the time, today was no different.

Oh, but today was different. Because as Harry looked at the green and silver tie hanging loosely around the other boy’s neck, and the white shirt collar with the first few buttons undone, he noticed something. 

The pale skin, right where Malfoy’s neck met his collarbone, was marked. Harry looked away, uncertain with what he had seen. He must have been mistaken. 

But when he looked again, there it was. On Malfoy’s right side, at the base of his neck, there was an ugly blue and purple bruise. It looked fresh, too, and on the pale white skin it only stood out more. It was distressing, but that was exactly why Harry couldn’t look away. It fascinated him in a horrible way. Had someone hurt him? 

Then a stab of realization hit him. It wasn’t a bruise. It was a  _ hickey _ . 

Harry gasped in surprise as he felt a sharp burn on his hand. His potion was now boiling over, large bubbles exploding over the edge and sending droplets all over the desk and on to his hand. He immediately turned off the heat, and he could hear Malfoy snicker next to him, laughing at his mistake. All it did was make Harry blush. He couldn’t get the violent purple mark out of his head. 

Why was it bothering him so much? It wasn’t strange, Malfoy had a girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson. Harry had even seen them together on the train. Obviously they were doing more than just exchanging pecks. 

But Harry still found it strange. He had thought that Malfoy wasn’t really interested in her. Whenever they were together in the Great Hall, he would always sit next to her, but when she took his hand it was like he let her do it for appearances, not because he actually wanted to. Even the kiss on the train, it had seemed more out of expectation rather than him being drawn to do it. 

But this… this meant that they were doing more. Harry had a hard time imagining Malfoy kiss anyone, let alone doing- that. 

_ That’s just because you’ve never done it with anyone _ . Harry thought to himself.  _ Just because you’ve never really snogged anyone doesn’t mean other people can’t do it _ . 

Harry felt hot with embarrassment. He had never really thought of anything like that. It’s not like he’s had a lot of time to think about it with Voldemort constantly getting in the way with his magical supremacy bullshit. It was only now that he thought what it must be like. Not to just kiss someone, but to do more than that. The idea of marking someone so… obviously. There was a sadism to it that Harry felt ashamed of thinking about. Even more ashamed of being intrigued by it.

Harry couldn’t help but glance over to Malfoy again. The blond was stirring his potion, carefully observing the change in color, and at this angle it was impossible to see the mark. 

How could he go about his day so normally with that on his neck? Where any one could see it? Harry knew that if he had one he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it. Was Malfoy thinking about it? He didn’t look like it. 

Was Malfoy just so used to it? To have marks on him, proof of what he had done. Physical evidence of a moment together with someone. Did Malfoy ask for it? Did he demand it?

Harry was getting hot. He was sweating everywhere, and the stirring in his gut had grown. He avoided looking at Malfoy for the rest of the class because everytime he did the buzzing in his head grew.

Jealousy was not the right word for what Harry was feeling. But there was that pull he had never felt before, this desire for intimacy. He couldn’t help imagining himself giving that mark, and wondering what Malfoy’s voice sounded like if he were to get so close to his throat.

* * *

It was hard to get immersed in the holiday season when all they could see were reminders of how fucked up the world was. 

The Ministry of Magic, while being more upfront about the current climate than they had been the previous year, were being increasingly vague with their information. While it made sense they didn’t want to give people the impression they had no idea what they were doing, it just gave more room for misinformation. Rumors about the whereabouts of Voldemort and his followers spread like wildfires, which made people even more afraid. It was impossible to know who to trust. All of this collective anxiety seemed to seep into the very air they breathed. For once, Harry wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of Voldemort, everyone seemed to realize that something was stirring. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione tried to think of the free day they had to enjoy in Hogsmeade, but unfortunately not even Christmas lights and a beautiful soft layer of snow was enough to give them even a false sense of security. 

They decided to go to the Three Broomsticks, but they were obviously not the only ones with that idea. With the number of Hogwarts students in the place, it was a miracle they managed to find a free table.

“I’ll go get the drinks,” Hermione offered, as she went to the bar. 

Before they could barely take their gloves and scarves off, someone arrived at their table, and Harry had to fight to suppress a sigh of irritation.

“Ah, what a surprise! It’s good thing I ran into you, Potter!” Slughorn said.

“Right,” Harry nodded, trying for a smile. He hoped it looked natural. Ron didn’t even try. Slughorn hadn’t acknowledged him anyway.

“You’ve managed to avoid me thus far, Harry!” Slughorn chuckled, oblivious, “but you can’t get away this time! I’m throwing a sort end of term get together, it’s kind of an annual thing actually. Just a little Christmas celebration in between friends. I insist you come!”

Harry groaned internally. He would rather do the Triwizard Tournament again than go to a Christmas Party hosted by Slughorn. 

“Oh, right. Well, I’m not sure-”

“Ah, Granger!” Slughorn interrupted him. Hermione gave a polite smile as she put down their drinks, but didn’t respond. “I was just telling Harry about this Christmas Party, and of course, you are invited as well.”

“Oh!” Hermione’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes went wide, the same look Mrs. Weasley had when she was stuck in a conversation with Fleur Delacoure. “Well, thank you, Professor, for the invitation. However-”

“Oh, good!” He exclaimed, and chuckled, this time a little bit of his drink spilled over onto the floor. “That’s wonderful. It’s really a treat. I’ll get to introduce you both so some of my friends as well, past students, you know, that sort of thing. My Christmas get togethers are a little bit of a phenomenon you’ll see. Keep an eye out for my owl!” He gave a satisfied smile and turned, still not saying a word to Ron. The Professor returned to the bar and asked Madame Rosmerta for another drink, not noticing the wizards and witches who were sitting in the vicinity take their drinks and move, probably to avoid another assault of over exaggerated stories of his former students. 

Suddenly, Ron slammed his mug of Butterbeer down so fast it spilled over the edge. Harry thought at first it had been because of Slughorn, but then all of a sudden Ron burst out.

“What on earth is Dean doing?” He said, his eyes bulging out of his face. 

Both Harry and Hermione followed his gaze to see what he was looking at. Dean was sitting at one of the booths, his arm around Ginny, speaking to her in a hushed voice. Ginny wasn’t looking at him, but Harry could see her cheeks turning pink, and he guessed it wasn’t because of the cold.

“Oh relax, Ron,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “they’re just talking.”

As if they had heard her words, Ginny turned to face Dean, their noses bumping into each other on accident as they –

“Oh…” Hermione looked down at her drink in embarrassment, “... and snogging.”

“That’s my sis–” Ron growled as he stood up, but he was rapidly stopped by Hermione who pulled him down. 

“Ron, don’t! You can’t go and interfere with her romantic life just because  _ you _ don’t like it. She’s her own person!”

“But-”

“ _ No. _ ” Hermione said firmly. “Imagine if one of your brothers interrupted you when you were in the middle of snogging someone, wouldn’t you feel embarrassed?”

Ron looked like he was going to argue with her, but Harry guessed he couldn’t find anything better than,  _ Jokes on you, I haven’t snogged anyone in my life anyway, so there’s no way one of my brothers could have stopped me in the first place _ .

Harry kept silent. He couldn’t stop glancing over at the two in the booth. The buzzing in gut that had become much more familiar than he felt comfortable with began to grow. He felt a sudden ache in his gut as if he had just been punched. This need for intimacy and proximity, being drawn towards someone who wasn’t there. How could you miss something you had never had?

He wanted to know what it was like to be able to kiss someone like that. He imagined someone with their hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer. To feel their breath on his lips before they came together. When they pulled apart he could look into their eyes. He could picture them so clearly, little black holes in the middle of two small storms –

A blade of anxiety sliced through Harry like a poker. Imagining  _ that _ , and thinking of – _ him _ . Harry wasn’t afraid of what he had thought, Malfoy was in his thoughts all the time, it would make sense if he had been looking at Ginny and Dean and then the blond happened to appear in his head – that was normal, right?

Of course he was thinking of Malfoy all the time, he was being suspicious! Harry was trying to find out what he could be doing that was putting people in danger! 

_ But that’s not it, is it? _ A voice said in his head.

_ Shut up _ . Harry said back. 

Harry wasn’t afraid of thinking about Malfoy. He was afraid of how he felt  _ while _ he was doing it. The firecrackers in his stomach. The aching in his gut. The need to be so close he could feel his breath. And he found he wasn’t absolutely disgusted when it was Malfoy’s hair, Malfoy’s eyes, Malfoy’s… 

“Harry, are you all right?” Hermione’s voice snapped Harry back to reality. He saw Hermione and Ron’s concerned faces.

“Y-Yeah,” he said dismissively, “I’m all right.”

“You zoned out a bit, mate.” Ron said.

“I’m fine.” Harry said abruptly. He hadn’t meant to sound rude, but he was struggling to focus. There was too much going on in his head. When he happened to glance over at Ginny and Dean again, all he could think of was Malfoy wrapping his arm around Harry, using his other hand to tilt his chin and –

“I have to go to the bathroom.” Harry said quickly. Ron and Hermione stammered some confused acknowledgments, but didn’t stop him. He stood up so fast he bumped into the table, spilling Butterbeer over the edge of their mugs, and almost tipping the chair over behind him as he half-ran behind the bar to get into the hallway that led to the restroom. 

He was walking so fast and wasn’t really paying attention to the turns of the hallway, so it was no surprise that he bumped into someone about to enter the restroom. 

“Sor-,” Harry began to mumble, but he stopped when he saw who it was.

Malfoy was shoving something inside of his winter coat, pulling it tightly around him so Harry didn’t get a chance to see even a vague shape of what he was hiding. Harry had never seen the other so alarmed. 

“Jesus, what’s the point of wearing those glasses if you’re still blind?” Malfoy said, words coming out so fast they were like bullets.

Harry couldn’t even focus long enough to think of a retort. Malfoy clearly hadn’t been inside for long, because his hair was damp with melted snow, so it hung gracefully over his face in a way he never usually wore it. His nose and cheeks were still flushed from the winter air. Harry could feel his heart beating in his throat, but all of his previous thoughts were dispelled from his mind completely when he saw Malfoy’s dark circles under his bloodshot eyes.

“A-Are you daft, Potter?” Malfoy spat, but he was trembling at the same time making it lose its edge. Harry could tell he wasn’t shaking because of the cold.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, ignoring the insult. He had never seen Malfoy like this. It was… off putting 

“Don’t you remember what I said to you on the train?” Malfoy wrapped his arms around himself and whatever he was holding tighter, and took a step closer. He lowered his voice so it was impossible anyone in the bustling tavern could hear them. “If you know what’s good for you you’ll forget you saw this.”

“Threatening me would work better if you didn’t look half dead, Malfoy.” Harry took one step forward to meet him. He was actually a little relieved Malfoy backed down, retreating to lean against the door of the bathroom because if he had stayed his ground their height difference would have been significantly more noticeable. How hadn’t Harry noticed that before? “Whatever you’re planning clearly isn’t worth it. Look at what it’s doing to you!”

“You think you’ve caught me with something but you have absolutely nothing on me.” Malfoy’s body language was tense, despite him using the door for support. “You don’t know anything. If you think a broken nose was bad, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Malfoy, I tried to fucking help you, what more do you want from me?” How had he been thinking of kissing this git a minute ago?

“I want you to leave me the fuck alone.” Malfoy’s tone was consistent and solid, but he shot out every word as if he wanted them to pierce Harry’s skin. Harry saw how Malfoy was acting and suddenly the image of a caged animal came into his head. Whatever Malfoy was doing, he didn’t want to do it. He didn’t know if he could.

“I sit next to you in Potions almost every day, I see that you’re barely keeping it together-”

Malfoy suddenly pushed off from the door and whipped out his wand with one hand, still keeping the other strapped tightly to his side. Harry backed off fast, retreating until his back hit the opposite wall. There was still barely three feet in between them in the cramped hallway. The caged animal had pounced. Harry hadn’t even thought to pull out his wand. This was just like the train, how did Malfoy always manage to get the upper hand so easily?

“Can you, for once in your fucking life, not try to save everyone.” Draco said, his voice dangerously low. For every sentence he said he took a step towards Harry, the tip of his wand getting closer and closer to his neck until it was touching it. “Not everyone needs to be saved.  _ I _ don’t need to be saved, especially not by you. I’m doing what I have to do. I know you love to shove your stupid face where it doesn’t belong, you practically get off on it, don’t you? Being the fucking hero. But if I see that stupid face where it shouldn’t be one more time, I’ll give you another scar to match that eye sore on your head. Got it?”

By the end, Harry was pinned to the wall by the wand pressing against his neck, right under his jaw. He tilted his head away from it the best he could while still keeping eye contact with the blond in front of him. The pressure on his neck reminded him, for a split second, of the hickey he had noticed. By now it would had faded. Thinking of it made Harry extremely conscious of how close they were standing, the other’s breath on his face (it smelled of coffee). It made his heart race, which pissed him off. Even when Malfoy had a wand pointed to his neck all Harry could think about was all the things he had been imagining. It made him want to scream in frustration. 

_ Focus you ass,  _ he thought to himself,  _ you can’t let yourself go down that path.  _ This was Malfoy for Merlin’s sake. How could you even consider him in that way? 

Shame and irritation bloomed hot and heavy inside of Harry. He hated this feeling more than anything. 

Harry felt pretty fucking helpless in this moment. But even though Malfoy was the only one with his wand out he looked terrified. He had all the power, and he looked like he wanted to scream just as much as Harry.

Malfoy was scared for some reason. More scared than Harry had ever seen him. But there was nothing he dared do. Malfoy had a wand to his neck, and even though they were in a public space, Harry did not want to test what might happen. 

Harry raised his empty hands in a gesture of surrender. Malfoy backed off, giving Harry space to remove himself from the wall, but he didn’t lower his wand. He nodded towards to the exit, and didn’t take his eyes off of Harry until he had turned and left the hallway, back into the crowded tavern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhh! i hope y'all liked it! lemme know what u think and don't forget to press that kudos button! If y'all know anyone that would love some drarry spice in their life rn pls send on tik tok, tumblr, discord, whatever y'all are using to help each other out in this time!  
> Love y'all! I'll update again in a few days!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST AHHHHHHH FEELS ANGER ISSUES OH MY I PROMISE I LOVE THEM I JUST LOVE PAIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry bbs! it's been so fucking crazy lately but luckily for yall i got a long ass chapter for yall and its spicyyyyyyyyy uwu all da feels ;))))) anyone else on draco malfoy tik tok??? lmao it came out of nowhere lmao but im not complaining lol oki ill see yall at the end love yall!!!

“Why is it that when something happens it’s always you three?”

McGonagall eyes, filled with concern, passed over Harry, Ron, and Hermione from the other side of the desk.

“I’m gonna be honest, Professor, I find myself asking that a lot.” Ron said, for lack of something else to add.

All three of them were still in shock over what they had witnessed. Katie Bell’s screams were still ringing in Harry’s ears, it was impossible to think of anything else. 

_ It was him. _ That phrase was the only thing that could push its way through the image of Katie’s limp body swaying in the sky, icy winds whipping her hair around her fear stricken face.  _ It was him. It had to be. _

“It was Malfoy.” He blurted out.

All three of them gave him startled looks.

“Now, Potter.” McGonagall said sternly. “That is a very serious accusation-”

“I know it was him!” Harry’s voice was rising now. “He’s been up to something since before term started and I know this has something to do with him!”

“And do you have proof of this?” McGonagall asked through her pursed lips.

“I-” Harry started, picking through his past experiences with Malfoy. When they had spied on him outside Borgin and Burke’s in the summer he hadn’t left with anything. He realized the only solid proof he had was his confrontation outside the bathroom of the Three Broomsticks. Even as he thought back on that encounter he had to push the memory of the strong coffee and mint smell on Malfoy’s breath out of his head. He had been hiding something, something Harry was convinced was the package containing the cursed necklace that Snape had just removed from the room to investigate. Harry was fully prepared to expose Malfoy, but when the moment had arrived he hesitated.

Malfoy’s body language, the image of the trapped animal, the fear in his eyes. Even if he had done it, it wasn’t because he had wanted to. He didn’t even have anything against Katie Bell, as far as Harry knew they had never talked at all outside of Quidditch matches, and even then it was limited to house-slander and flying-related insults. Nothing warranting a murder attempt. 

Harry didn’t trust Malfoy as far as he could cast a spell, but he knew he wasn’t a killer. Someone - Harry had a good idea of who - was using Malfoy. If he brought up their encounter and the school investigated him, if they actually  _ found _ something, Malfoy would be ruined forever. And for what? Being afraid? Everyone was afraid right now.

Harry swallowed his pride, and didn’t meet McGonagall’s stern gaze.

“No. It was just a feeling.”

“Well,” McGonagall said with finality, “there is enough unpredictability in the world right now as it is. Rumors will do nothing but create more distrust, and that is the last thing we need right now. I will strongly advise you to refrain from making accusations like that based on hunches. Now, run along you three. Be careful, now is not the time to be running into things that could get you in danger.”

She waved them off, and they left her office, and made their way slowly to the Gryffindor common room.

“What on earth made you suspect Malfoy?” Hermione asked him in a hushed voice. She was clearly still quite shaken over what they had witnessed.

“Is this about what happened to you on the train?” Ron asked. “Did he say he was going to do something like this?”

Harry opened his mouth to answer their questions. He wanted to tell them what had happened, he really did. He trusted them more than anyone. But if he did, he would have to tell them about their confrontation after their first potions class, and how he’s been watching Malfoy for weeks. And then there was what had happened outside the bathroom. 

_ Not everyone needs to be saved.  _ I _ don’t need to be saved, especially not by you. I’m doing what I have to do. _

They wouldn’t understand what Harry knew. If he told them how much trouble he suspected Malfoy actually was in, they wouldn’t believe him. They hadn’t even believed his suspicions after the train incident. All they would be is concerned about how obsessed with Malfoy Harry had become this year. And he definitely did not need them asking questions about that.

“No, he didn’t mention anything. I think I’m just trying to find an explanation for it. I don’t understand who would want to hurt Katie.”

“It’s horrible,” Hermione said, lost in thought, “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “I can’t either.” 

What Harry really wanted to do was confront Malfoy. He knew it would be difficult to have a conversation with him, but he was determined. 

He realized that was easier said than done.

Harry had depended on Potions lessons to get an opportunity to talk to him, But Malfoy never actually showed up. Harry was slightly surprised, Malfoy wasn’t the type to skip class. But when he tried to ask a Slytherin sixth year about it all she did was give him a weird look and shove past him. 

Then Harry tried to catch Malfoy outside of classes. Which then made Harry realize he didn't know where Malfoy went when he wasn’t in class. He was never on the grounds or in the library, or any other common areas. He never seemed to eat, so he was rarely in the Great Hall. 

Harry was more perplexed than frustrated. Where on earth was he all the time?

He could technically get into the Slytherin common room, he knew where it was from his second year when they suspected Malfoy of being Slytherin’s heir. But this time he didn’t have any Polyjuice Potion. He supposed he had his Invisibility Cloak, but even then, he didn’t have the password. What if Malfoy wasn’t in the common room, what would he do? Sneak into the dorms? That was problematic for a whole host of other reasons.

Soon, the term was almost over and Harry was no closer to getting an opportunity with Malfoy than he had been a couple weeks earlier. 

With his seemingly impossible search, Harry had completely forgotten about -

“Slughorn’s Christmas Party!” he groaned.

“It’s tomorrow night, how could you forget?” Hermione asked. She had dragged him to the library to get a head start on some of the holiday homework they had been assigned when she had mentioned it. She and Ron had gotten into another argument, and he had angrily grabbed his broom and gone out to do some extra practice with Dean, Seamus, and Ginny. Harry had made to go with them, but Hermione had somehow managed to sweep him up, and to avoid making her any angrier he obliged. “I’ve been trying to find an excuse not to go since he invited us.”

“It’s not like I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.” Harry said.

“I know, this work is getting ridiculous. I knew seven NEWT classes were going to need some extra effort, but still, even I’m feeling overwhelmed. 

Harry just nodded in agreement. His schoolwork had been pulled lower and lower on his list of priorities since the term started. While they were difficult, Malfoy was taking up the majority of the space in Harry’s head, both as a guilty person and a guilty pleasure. 

Whenever Harry was sitting alone in potions, following the Half Blood Prince’s instructions his mind always wandered. Where was Malfoy? What was he doing? It always began with Harry trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together to find out what Malfoy was trying to do. He would go in circles, Borgin and Burkes, the train, the Three Broomsticks, the necklace. Borgin and Burkes, the train, the Three Broomsticks, the necklace. Eventually he gave up with no new information to go off of. But then Malfoy remained in his head. His wand against Harry’s neck. The hickey under his shirt. His breath on Harry’s face as he insulted him. 

Harry started sweating, even though the whole castle was cold and drafty with winter air. He internally berated himself. 

_ Don’t you realize how fucked up this is? _ He told himself. But his mind, regardless of the shame crawling up his back, just reminded him of the tug of his gut at the thought of Malfoy’s body against his, his voice getting caught in his throat, his disheveled blond hair, and Harry had to physically grind the heels of his hands into his eyes to try and stop seeing the Slytherin in his head.

“Harry?” Hermione waved her quill in front of him. He had been zoning out.

“Sorry, what?”

“I honestly feel like I’m talking to a brick wall most of the time.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Who are you bringing to Slughorn’s party?”

“Wha-”Harry was firmly brought back to reality, “we have to bring someone?”

“I mean, you don’t  _ have _ to, but the invitation did offer a plus one. I believe most people are bringing someone.”

Harry sighed deeply and stretched back in his chair to try and stifle the anxiety that had started rising inside him. He had only felt it a few times, like at the Yule Ball, or his first kiss with Cho Chang. Somehow, he hated this feeling more than he hated the adrenaline that came with life or death situations.

“Who are you bringing?” He asked. Hermione’s face went pink, and she looked firmly down at her parchment. 

“You’ll see.” She said dismissively, and Harry knew he wasn’t going to find out until tomorrow.

After a few miserable hours in the library during which he had gotten no work done, Harry gave up and decided to return to the common room. On his way, he caught a flash of blond hair disappearing around the corner at the far end of the corridor. 

Harry went into a run, now was his chance. He could finally get some of the answers he had been looking for. 

“Malfoy!” he called out as he turned the corner. But he stopped right in his tracks.

It hadn’t been Malfoy. It was Luna.

“Hi Harry!” She smiled cheerfully. Luckily, she had been reading an issue of the Quibbler, and apparently she had not noticed at all how he had clearly called someone else's name. “How are you?”

“I-” Harry was still recovering from his mistake, “good, yeah. Good.”

“That’s good to hear.” She said in her light voice. “It’s easy to be so worried all the time with everything going on with You-Know-Who, and the Wrackspurts of course.”

“Yeah, right.” Harry didn’t even want to entertain the thought of asking about Wrackspurts. But he did get another idea. “Listen, Luna, I wanted to ask you something. Did you perhaps want to go to Slughorn’s Christmas party with me?”

* * *

Despite how Luna insisted she was enjoying herself, Harry felt guilty for bringing her. In between the below average food, the strange music, and overwhelmingly uncomfortable aura of the whole event, he wouldn’t have blamed her for wanting to leave as fast as possible. Lord knew he would if he could. 

Every time he tried to escape or seek refuge in a corner Slughorn reached his arm around him and roped him into a conversation with more Hogwarts alumni Harry didn’t recognize. Slughorn would boast about Harry’s potions skills (Snape would scowl every time he was in the vicinity), and insist he introduce him to more supposedly famous individuals.

Harry barely had time to talk to Hermione at all, who was busy hiding from Cormac McLaggen she was nowhere to be found most of the time. 

All in all, the energy created in the dungeons of Hogwarts was extremely uncomfortable. Harry silently prayed for a way out, begging for time to go faster, but he hadn’t expected his prayers would be answered. 

While Slughorn was describing Harry’s first potions lesson for the fourth time that night to some Ministry official Harry had already forgotten the name of, there was a commotion and uprising of murmuring coming from the entrance to the dungeons. The band’s music was interrupted as the sound of uneven footsteps and scuffling made their way through the party guests

“Professor Slughorn!” Filch cried, triumphantly. “Professor Slughorn! I found this student sneaking around here in the dungeons. Claims he was invited to your party.” He pulled through the crowd and presented his victim. Harry was stunned when he saw the blond hair, slightly mussed out of place from the struggle, and the familiar sneering face.

“All right, all right!” Malfoy spat, “I wasn’t invited! I was trying to crash the party.” They were in a struggle, the student desperately trying to get out of the grip of the caretaker. Malfoy managed to tear himself away from Filch’s grip, his disgust for Squibs stronger than Filch’s love for punishing students.

“Well, let’s all calm down, now.” Slughorn said, clearly slightly irritated his conversation had been interrupted. “It’s all right, it’s Christmas for Merlin’s sake! If he’s here now I don’t see why he can’t join-”

“I think,” Snape appeared from the crowd, “since Mr. Malfoy belongs to my house, I can come up with a suitable punishment.”

Slughorn was about to protest, but before he could say anything, Snape had swept Malfoy away and out of the dungeon. The band, not knowing what else to do, continued to play, and slowly the flow of conversation began to rise and return to normal. 

Harry, taking the opportunity that had presented itself, sent a silent apology to Luna as he disappeared into the crowd before Slughorn could capture him again. He took the steps out of the dungeons two at a time, and when he arrived in the empty entrance hall, he took the Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and slipped into the shadows of the castle walls. 

He didn’t find it hard to locate Snape and Malfoy. In the dark, every noise seemed to echo for miles. As he followed them through the castle he could hear their frantic and aggressive whispers bounce off the walls. Finally, they stopped, and Harry, despite being Invisible, hid around the corner to eavesdrop. 

“-being foolish, Draco, and I would hate to see what the Dark Lord would think if this plan were to be fooled by lack of forethought.” Snapes drawling tone triggered an irrascible anger within Harry he couldn’t control. Whenever that man spoke he had to suppress the urge to punch him.

“Stay out of it!” Malfoy protested, but he was immediately hushed by the teacher. 

“I don’t believe you’re taking this seriously enough-”

“How dare you!” Harry had thought he had heard Malfoy angry before, but he had never heard him like this. “The Dark Lord trusted  _ me _ with this task, and I’m going to fulfill it. You’re just jealous he didn’t pick you. I’m going to get his respect. I’m going to prove to him that I’m more than what my father was.”

The silence that followed made Harry suspect Snape might have cursed the boy, but eventually he spoke, so quietly Harry could barely hear him. 

“Make sure you don’t get caught again, or I will give you detention.”

“Yes.” Malfoy said with more disdain Harry had ever heard him direct at the Potions Master.

There was a series of scuffling and Harry could hear rapid footsteps approaching him. He had a moment of panic before he remembered he was wearing the Cloak.

“Yes,  _ sir _ .” Snape called down to him.

“Piss off.”

Harry didn’t return to the party. He reminded himself he would have to apologize to Luna in person for abandoning her, but after what he had witnessed in between Snape and Malfoy, all he wanted to do was go back to his four poster bed in his dormitory. 

He had suspected since the summer that Malfoy was working under orders from suspicious people, but he hadn’t expected them to come from Voldemort himself. 

He thought he would feel triumphant at finally finding proof for his suspicions - after all, he had been right the whole time - but all he felt was a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

He couldn’t help thinking of how scared Malfoy had looked in the Three Broomsticks, how tired and anxious he was in class, when he even showed up. Harry knew Malfoy didn’t agree with what he was doing, but he continued because he felt like he had to. Maybe he did have to, maybe Voldemort was threatening him, and he was just doing this to protect himself and his family. 

As much as Harry hated Malfoy, as much as he wanted to find a reason to find him guilty, he knew it was more complicated than that. Everything was more complicated now.

Harry groaned in frustration. Everything was changing so much. Out in the world it was obvious, the dangers were forcing everyone to adapt. Now he couldn’t even hate Malfoy like he did before, and that had been one of the only consistencies in his fucked up life. 

Now he couldn’t even be sure if hate was the right word anymore. 

* * *

Christmas had come and gone, and with everything that was happening, it was easy to forget the joyful holiday spirit. Academic pressures were rising and a dull misery seeped into the walls of the castle. The fifth years were working tirelessly towards their OWLs, the seventh years towards their NEWTs. The rest of them just tried to ignore they had any work at all. 

Unfortunately, not everything from the holiday season was forgotten. Since Hermione took Cormac McLaggen to the Christmas party after her fight with Ron, the two of them had been bickering incessantly. Harry was very close to just giving up and having no friends at all with the way they would carry on. Ron would make an off hand comment about something, and Hermione would interject. Ron would be petty and respond sarcastically, and Hermione would get defensive. Ron would then bring up something irrelevant like SPEW or Harry being better at Potions now (which Harry would always firmly ignore to try and keep conversations about the Half Blood Prince to a minimum), and Hermione would retort, targeting Ron’s less than impressive academic performance. At this point Harry would remove himself from the situation, but both of them would then recount the entire conversation in great detail later despite him having been present for most of it. 

“I mean, honestly, if he just put a little bit of effort he wouldn’t be so sulky about never being noticed! I mean, it’s not like we  _ want _ Slughorn to praise us all the time.” Hermione would rant to Harry. 

“She’s just upset she’s not getting attention,” Ron would try to explain, “I mean, not that she’s not deserving of it, obviously, but we don’t all have to worship her just to take a look at her Charms notes, do we?”

This was not the first time Ron and Hermione had been at odds, and Harry was willing to bet it would be far from the last. They usually resolved it themselves and Harry knew he wouldn’t need to intervene, he would just have to wait. However, now he was either escaping their arguing or avoiding their ranting, which meant that all of a sudden he was spending a lot of time alone. This led the sweat inducing, heart racing thoughts of his least favorite person invade his head again. 

Harry didn’t know how much more he could take. The heat of shame was becoming irritatingly familiar to him. He hated these thoughts, but the more he tried to rid himself of them the more they persisted. The blond hair, the hickey, his breath on his face, Harry wanted nothing to do with them. But he also knew he couldn’t just let them be. He had to do something about it, and while he didn’t know what kind of solution he would have come up with he had had a chance to think about it, but (fortunately or unfortunately for him) he didn’t get a chance to. 

Despite Harry’s fair share of  stalking investigating, soon enough, he and Malfoy came face to face at a time he wasn’t prepared for. 

He was on his way back to the Gryffindor common room after one of his lessons with Dumbledore. That night they had ventured back into the Pensieve twice. First to observe Bob Ogden’s memory, which still left a deeply disturbing feeling throughout Harry’s body that lingered long after he had left the memory. Then, to Harry’s surprise, they went into Slughorn’s mind, where Harry witnessed a teenage Voldemort interrogate the professor about Horcruxes. 

Harry’s mind was deeply occupied with the information Dumbledore had told him. Dark magic, more horrible than Harry wanted to keep considering, and now he had a crucial mission. He needed to convince Slughorn to give him the real memory, the untampered one. Harry didn’t even know where to begin with that, but at the moment he was so tired all he wanted to do was go to bed. 

That is, until he saw until he saw Malfoy turning the corner at the far end of the corridor. 

How is it that even when he wasn’t trying, Harry still seemed to run into him. 

Harry did not find it in the least suspicious that Malfoy was sneaking around at night. If his behavior the past few months didn’t make it obvious, Harry could pull out the Marauder’s Map at any moment and more often than not Malfoy could be found somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. Harry had passed the point of trying to catch the Slytherin doing something. This time, he needed to try something he had never tried before. 

Harry was going to try and talk to him. 

He followed the blond through the dark corridors. Despite how late in the evening it was, Malfoy was dressed in his uniform. The top few buttons of his white shirt were undone and his tie was hanging lose around his neck. He wasn’t being particularly careful, like he wasn’t afraid of being caught. Harry suddenly remembered Malfoy was a prefect. If he was caught out of bed he wouldn’t get in trouble. Harry, on the other hand, had to be ready to take out his Invisibility Cloak at any moment. 

Finally Malfoy stopped. He paced back and forth three times, and he seemed to be muttering something under his breath. He paused, waited, and walked into a door that had appeared in the wall across from him. 

The Room of Requirement! Of course, Harry thought to himself, that must be where he’s been spending all of his time!

Harry waited a few moments before sprinting to where Malfoy had entered. The door had almost already faded out of existence. Harry took a few steps back and began pacing back and forth in front of where the door had been. 

_ I need to be where Malfoy is hiding. I need to be where Malfoy is hiding. I need to be where Malfoy is hiding.  _

Harry opened his eyes. For a brief moment he thought it wouldn’t work. Would the room show itself if the person inside didn’t want to be found?

But, a few seconds later the door began to appear out of the stone, and Harry was able to slip inside. 

Harry found it hard to believe that he could still be surprised at what the wizarding world had in store, but he was still stunned to stillness, mouth hanging slightly open when he saw the room he had entered. 

It was huge, far bigger than the Great Hall, possibly bigger than the Quidditch stadium. Inside were mountains upon mountains of  _ stuff _ . Old furniture, piles of books, abandoned scales and astronomy equipment, Everything that had been lost or discarded in the castle’s entire history it seemed was piled within these walls. Paths had been made in between the collections of broken things. Harry began to carefully make his way through the piles. He didn’t know where Malfoy was, and given the size of the place it could be anywhere. He kept his eyes out for anything suspicious that Malfoy could be using, but it was impossible to distinguish anything in the piles of rubbish. 

Out of everything he passed he was drawn towards a large cabinet. It was tall and triangular, made of dark wood. He was inspecting it and the junk around it when suddenly he heard a familiar voice from behind him. 

“What the fuck?” 

This time, Harry was quicker than he had been before. He managed to pull his wand out from his back pocket and point it as he turned around at the same time as Malfoy pulled his own wand out. 

“What the hell do I have to do to get the message through to you, Potter?” Malfoy was furious, Harry was sure that he would not hesitate to curse him if he felt inclined to do so. 

“This isn’t what I was trying to do-” Harry didn’t even know what he was defending himself from but he hadn’t prepared what he was going to say to Malfoy before he confronted him.

“Then please explain to me,” Malfoy was close to raving now, his wand arm shaking, “tell me what the fuck you’re doing cause I’m getting really impatient.”

“Listen, Malfoy,” Harry tried to remain calm, “I honestly just want to talk.” 

“Why should I waste time talking to you?”

“Because maybe you might actually benefit from what I have to say!” Harry was very close to giving up on this whole ordeal. He didn’t know what he had expected. This was just like after their first potions lesson. They would never be able to coexist without friction. 

“Spit it out then.” Malfoy said. He wasn’t lowering his wand, but he had stopped shaking as much. Harry felt a bit more secure knowing he might not get hexed by accident.

“Look, we’re both aware that I know you’re up to something, and I know you’re being forced to do it-”

“You don’t know anything!” Malfoy interrupted. Harry could barely suppress the anger boiling over inside him. Suddenly words were flying out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“God, can you for once shut up!” Malfoy looked more stunned than angry, and as Harry kept talking his eyebrows continued to rise. “Listen, I followed you during the summer into Borgin and Burkes, I followed Zabini to get to you on the train, I followed you and Snape during the Christmas party-”

“Have you been  _ stalking _ me?” Malfoy’s eyes narrowed, taking a step back from Harry. 

Harry felt very foolish. He didn’t know how he had intended this to go but this was far from it. Suddenly he went from having all the words to none at all.

“No- I,” he stammered, trying to recover, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then tell me what you meant.”

“Jesus!” Harry groaned in frustration. Malfoy’s eyebrow twitched for a split second but he remained still. “I was following you because I knew you were up to something and I wanted to stop you because you’re always up to something! Then I realized that you were in trouble - not trouble but you were struggling - and then I was trying to  _ help _ you but you’re such a git you won’t accept help from anyone, not even Snape for some reason. And then I saw you when you were on your way here and I knew since I never see you in class anymore I had to confront you now -”

Harry stopped to take a breath. This whole time he had been focusing on what he was trying to say and taken his eyes off of Malfoy, which probably wasn’t smart seeing as they had their wands drawn. But when we looked back the Slytherin was amused and confused more than anything. His eyebrows were drawn up in a “I don’t know what I’m witnessing right now but I know it’s good” smirk, and heat rose in Harry’s neck yet again, for a reason other than anger. 

“So,” Malfoy drawled, enjoying having the power, “you came to confront me, and now what?”

Harry wasn’t a master manipulator. He couldn’t twist this situation with his words, he didn’t know how to charm anyone, he was even rubbish at lying. He knew that in order to make any actual progress he should just tell the truth. He had been doing that so far and he had managed to get Malfoy from an angry git to a cocky git. An improvement, he supposed, given the situation. 

He took a deep breath.

“I know what's on your left arm.”

Malfoy’s smirk disappeared from his face in less than a second. He became defensive, just like he was at the Three Broomsticks. 

“How-”

“I saw you in Borgin and Burkes. But I couldn’t see for certain so I made a guess.” Malfoy took a step towards him and Harry knew he wouldn’t have much time before this ended just like how it had one the Hogwarts Express “And I know you’re responsible for what happened to Katie Bell.” 

Malfoy didn’t say a thing. He leapt so quickly Harry didn’t have a chance to use his wand. He closed the distance in between them in a few long strides and grabbed the front of Harry’s shirt. He shoved Harry back into the old cabinet behind him and it groaned with the sudden force. Harry felt his wand clatter from his hand and roll against another pile of junk. Harry felt a spike of arousal shoot up his body and disappear before he could even process what had happened. 

_ Not now _ , he begged his body in his head,  _ please, not now of all times _ . 

The blond looked like he was about to throw his wand on the floor and just deck him right in the face with his bare fists so Harry kept talking.

“Listen - just listen, please?” Harry realized he must look pathetic. Malfoy was sneering down at him from the few inches of height he had, his breath hitting Harry’s face. Harry had to close his eyes in order to try and ignore how close they were, but that just made all the points of contact in between them all the more conscious in his mind. He hated that he was thinking of that right now. The other boy had him pinned, and his body seemed to be reacting despite the context. Malfoy was going to kill him, and all he could focus on was his hand curled in a fist against his chest, keeping him in his place against the cabinet. Harry had to consciously focus on every word he spoke.

“I know he’s forcing you to do this. It might seem like you have no choice. That’s how he gets in your head, that's how he traps you. But you  _ do _ have a choice, Malfoy. You always do.”

“You don’t understand,” Malfoy said, but he didn't believe it. He just had nothing else he could say. His grip on Harry’s shirt was loosened, only slightly.

“Malfoy, I’m probably one of the only people who does understand.”

Harry couldn’t tell what was going on in Malfoy’s head right now. His grey eyes, even after weeks of barely any sleep, were stronger and more intense than they had ever been. They stared right into his own, as if trying to find the joke, trying to find the trick Harry was playing. But there wasn’t one, this is as honest as Harry had ever been. Even if they both desperately wanted that to be false. 

“Why did you try so hard?” Malfoy asked.

“What?”

“We hate each other. Why would you try so hard to help me?”

“What Voldemort is doing is wrong. It doesn’t matter who he’s doing it to. No one deserves the suffering he puts people through.”

Perhaps it was the subject matter. Perhaps it was because they had actually talked for the first time. Perhaps it was because they had been honest and vulnerable with each other. But clearly something had shifted. Malfoy was no longer defensive. Harry was no longer angry. All that was left were their heavy breaths mixing in the small space between them. Harry was not aware of most things but in this moment he could sense everything. He could feel every square inch of his body that was touching the other's. He was hyper aware of much taller the other boy was. He noticed how silent it was around them, like the whole castle was holding its breath for them. 

After a moment, Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, but he hesitated.

“Was there,” he considered his words, “any other reason?”

A series of various daydreams featuring the blond in front of him flashed through Harry’s head, ending with the kiss he had witnessed in between Malfoy and Parkinson on the train. Harry swallowed, and couldn’t help glancing at Malfoy’s neck, knowing that the mark that had fascinated him would have faded months ago. He observed the pale skin, the shadows of his jaw and his neck, the collar bone poking out that disappeared under the shirt. His eyes darted up to meet the other’s in a split second, but even so the blond had noticed. 

All of a sudden something passed over Malfoy. Harry could see the walls building back up, the vulnerability receding. Malfoy let go of his shirt and dived for his wand. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Harry was too confused to know what to do. He didn’t know what that moment they had had was, he didn’t know what it meant. Arousal, confusion, shame all mixed in his gut and made a mix of emotions he couldn’t recognize at all. 

“Wha-”

“Don’t say anything.” Malfoy said suddenly. He wouldn’t even look Harry in the eyes. “Just, fucking don’t.” He started to make his way through the mountains of junk. Harry dived for his own wand a few paces away and started chasing after Malfoy. Harry was suddenly afraid, partly because he didn’t know his way out, partly because he didn’t know what was happening. Had Malfoy figured him out? Had he been so obvious? Was he disgusted by him? What was going to happen now?

“Malfoy, I don’t understand-”

“I can’t do this.” 

“Do what? We just had a real conversation for the first time-”

“Yes,” Malfoy stopped in his tracks and whipped around, “and it’ll be the last.”

“Wha-”

“Get there faster, Potter!” Malfoy was shaking so much he ran his free hand through his hair to try and gain control. “I know it can be hard for information to get through your thick skull, but listen closely. I have a job to do, and I’m not going to let you ruin it.”

“But-”

“And I’m not doing it because I have to, I’m doing it because I was  _ chosen _ .” Malfoy looked slightly hysterical in the ghostly light of the Room of Requirement. Harry didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what he  _ could _ do. “I deserve this, and I’m going to make the Dark Lord proud.”

He turned his back to Harry, but before he walked away he added one last message, loud and clear so it echoed in the vast room. 

“Next time you try that again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhh ik ik ik okay okay i realize that malfoy cussing out Snape is kind of out of pocket, but i rly rly rly wanted that moment so oh well this is fanfiction and the characters can be as accurate as i want them to be but girllllllll srsly like ahhhhh i just had so much fun with this and i hope yall liked it too!!! dont forget to leave a like and share it w ur draco malfoy simp friends on tik tok tumblr whatever. stay safe and stay sane yall dese be wild times and to all my lovelies in cali i hope yall are doing okay w the fires!! peace and love yall, the kudos button take one sec to press but makes my whole ass day <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANGSTANGSTANGSTANGSTANGST ROMANCE?!?!?!?! PERHAPS?!?!??! all jokes all jokes but omggggggg shit goes down!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyy yall, sorry it's been a hot sec, but dont worry! school is just hard and corona is still happening and the world is on fire and politics makes me wanna kms but such is life atm. i have a plan for this story so it's gonna be finished no matter what! despite the wait i hopeyall like what i have included in this chapter (its a spicy one!!!)

Harry remained in the empty darkness of the Room of Requirement for at least another 20 minutes before he had the mental strength to make the journey back to the safety of his four poster bed. First his meeting with Dumbledore about the Horcruxes, then what had happened with Malfoy, it was too much for his brain to handle. 

Harry just leaned against a decrepit bookcase next to one of the rubbish piles, and he didn’t take his eyes off of the door leading out of the Room. His thoughts were racing too fast for his head to grasp onto them. If Malfoy hadn’t noticed Harry’s feelings for him before he definitely knew now. 

Harry cursed himself. How could be so stupid? For a moment he had actually hoped - no, he had believed - that they had reached an understanding. That perhaps they were even taking steps towards being allies,  _ more _ than allies, even. 

What was going to happen now? Was Malfoy going to tell everyone about what had happened? The Malfoy a few years ago would have gone straight to the teacher’s quarters and exposed him for being out of bed at dark, and then spread rumors around the whole school about him. He had been so predictable back then. Now Harry didn’t know what to think.

Harry felt worried, not only for himself, but for Malfoy. He didn’t know who else he could tell about this. Ron and Hermione would hardly believe him, and besides, he couldn’t tell them anything without revealing the series of encounters they’ve already had that he’s kept secret from them for all these months. Not to mention he’d have to dance around the truth that lay untouched even by him in the middle of this whole mess. He had barely wrapped his head around his feelings for Malfoy, he couldn’t even fathom trying to vocalize them and explain them to someone else. 

Harry also felt deeply ashamed. After everything he still hadn’t managed to save Malfoy. If anything he had made it worse, and he still had these conflicting feelings. He was long past hating the blond at this point, but he didn’t know how they could connect. It was as if the universe was determined to keep them on opposite sides. Harry had his prophecy, but Malfoy had his own, his legacy. They were trapped on their paths, and it was too late, maybe even years too late, to change their fates. 

Harry thought back to their first interaction on the train five years ago, and all of a sudden, a well of emotions erupted within him. Sadness, frustration, desperation, shame, everything he had been trying to repress in order to focus on his goal, all of it came rising up. His muscles seized, his head pounded, and he couldn’t stop his tears from running down his cheeks. Reflecting on everything, how much they had changed, Harry couldn’t help but think about the unfairness of it all. He was a teenager, they both were. Why did it seem like they had no power over their own lives? Why couldn’t they break out this pattern? They were both trapped in their own ways, and despite everything he tried, Harry couldn’t free them. 

Harry dried his face and took several deep breaths in order to calm himself. Of fucking course he had to be attracted to his childhood nemesis who hated his guts and who also worked for the darkest wizard in the modern age, who killed his parents and was destined to either kill him as well or be killed by him. The fucked-upness of the situation made Harry almost laugh. 

After all the times he had confronted Malfoy, Harry knew why he felt the most defeated tonight. There was a part of him that thought if he could save Malfoy, it would somehow justify the thoughts he couldn’t get out of his head.

* * *

It was Ron who woke him up the next day. Despite having gotten his first full night’s rest in a long time, Harry was still exhausted when he woke up. The events of the previous night had left him drained, and getting breakfast that morning was an ordeal. 

Both Ron and Hermione, who were still not speaking at the moment, noticed his slightly withdrawn behavior, but neither of them commented on it. Harry was relieved by this, he didn’t know if he could vocalize all of his thoughts even if he wanted to.

After a few days he realized Malfoy had no intention of spreading rumors about him. While Harry was surprised, he wasn’t suspicious. He had figured that Malfoy probably wanted to think about the incident in the Room of Requirement less than Harry himself did. He spent a lot of time over the next few weeks trying to repress his anxiety. Everything was just too complicated for him to handle.

Harry was so wrapped up in everything going on his head, he realized he wasn’t paying attention to what was happening around him. 

A cold, wet chill had set itself over the castle as they progressed into February, and everyone noticed. Perhaps it was the state of the world outside, or maybe it was their academic responsibilities growing, but everyone was seeking comfort in someone else. 

All of a sudden, everywhere Harry looked there were couples holding hands, flirting together in the halls in between classes, eating together during meals. Normally he wouldn’t think twice about it, he honestly couldn’t care less - he still didn’t - but now whenever he happened to catch these actions out of the corner of his eye he would feel an uncomfortable tug in his gut, and he would start sweating under his robes despite the frosts leftover from the cold winter season. He just hoped to any powers that may be he wouldn’t catch Malfoy around some corner or behind a tapestry with Parkinson or any other girl for that matter. He didn’t need to see what was already consuming his thoughts manifested in reality. Even though in his thoughts, of course, it was him that Malfoy would pull close.

And the last thing he wanted to think about right now was Malfoy. 

Harry had been forced to accept a box of chocolates by Romilda Vane (which he promptly threw onto the top of his trunk without opening), however, surprisingly enough, Ron had found himself right in the middle of the mess. Ever since their Quidditch match against Slytherin he and Lavender had been practically inseparable. Harry had been painfully watching their dance since the Quidditch tryouts, when Lavender had cheered so loudly at every save Ron had made birds fled from the empty stands in droves, so he was slightly relieved there was a conclusion they were both (seemingly) happy with. However, this also meant that Hermione had practically left their plane of existence and was never to be found. Normally Harry didn’t mind this behavior, but unfortunately this meant either spending time alone with his thoughts, or with two people whose lips were constantly connected at all times. 

It was a hard choice sometimes. 

By the time Valentine’s Day rolled around it was hard to see how the situation got worse. That was, until Harry walked into his room and saw a trail of opened chocolate wrappers, leading to Ron staring wistfully out the window with the empty box in his lap. 

Harry had taken a few moments to understand what had happened, but as soon as Ron’s slurred speech uttered Romilda Vane’s name instead of Lavender Brown’s, Harry had put the pieces together. 

While Hermione would know what to do, Harry knew that not only would she likely not have the materials, but she would probably not be inclined to help the boy who she hadn’t exchanged a word with in weeks. Harry knew Slughorn would not appreciate his presence either, after his persistent attempts at trying to fulfill Dumbledore’s promise and retrieve the real memory from him.   
Harry knew what he had to do.

* * *

“Wait, say the last part again?”

Harry, tired but relieved for something to do, recounted the whole scene to the Weasley twins, Ginny, and Hermione. They were all gathered around Ron's bed in the hospital wing, waiting for Mr and Mrs. Weasley to finish their meeting with Dumbledore and Slughorn. For lack o better things to do, and to keep the feeling of hopelessness in the face of danger away, they anxiously discussed the incident.

“So, if the wine was poisoned, then they weren’t attacking Ron, they were attacking someone else.” Fred said. 

“The question is, who?” Harry asked.

“You, most likely.” George answered, not taking his eyes off Ron, who was lying fast asleep in the bed at the center of the gathering. An uncomfortable silence settled around them.

Harry was actively reliving the events. Stumbling to the dungeons, knocking repeatedly on Slughorn's door and begging him to help the starstruck Ron. Celebrating his birthday with the wine Slughorn opened, and suddenly Ron was on the floor, frothing at the mouth, and Harry frantically searching through boxes and vials until he found the one thing he knew would help. 

He silently thanked the Half Blood Prince. Because of him, Ron was still alive.

“But the wine wasn’t meant for Harry, remember?” Ginny broke the silence. “Slughorn said it was a gift for Dumbledore.”

“Then whoever was trying to do Harry in clearly didn’t know Slughorn very well.” Hermione added. “Slughorn would never let something that good slip through his fingers.”

The wine and the necklace. Deadly items both meant for Dumbledore that had ended up in the wrong hands. Harry knew what was happening all too well. 

He felt deep anger and shame. How could he stand here with the rest of Ron’s family when he knew who the person responsible was and he hadn’t done anything? Harry should have mentioned something right after the night in the Room of Requirement and he had kept it to himself. Why? Because he thought he could save everyone by himself? Harry asked himself why he didn't think more. Now his best friend was suffering the consequences of his actions.

All he knew now was that whatever happened, he couldn’t let the people around him become more endangered than they already were by being close to him.

The next day, Harry considered the scene in the hospital wing. It was an awkward gathering. Snape, Slughorn, and Madame Pomfrey discussed the bottle wine, all standing next to Dumbledore who was reflecting on the situation. Lavender had just broken through the group of teachers, staring daggers at Hermione who was sitting next to Ron’s bed.

After the confrontation between Lavender and Hermione, Harry didn’t think it could get more awkward. 

And then Lavender ran away in a burst of tears and he was wrong. 

For the next few days, Ron’s bedside was quite the attraction. After the family had been allowed a moment alone with him, it seemed like every student in the castle wanted to see the victim of the poisoning. Madam Pomfrey had done well in getting most of the students away, but even under her watchful eye the Quidditch team, most of the former Dumbledore’s Army members, and many of their Gryffindor classmates came to see him. Some of them even left boxes of sweets and notes. Harry felt a little disappointed on Ron’s behalf that he wasn’t conscious, he knew Ron would have liked the attention. 

In between classes and Quidditch practices, Harry and Hermione alternated waiting by Ron’s bed during the next few days as he recovered from the poison, just in case he woke up. Despite having more classes, and significantly more work, Hermione insisted in staying there as often as she could.

“What if he wakes up and neither of us are there to see him?” She explained when Harry suggested she might want to rest. “Besides, I might as well stay. It’s impossible to get any work done in the library these days, and I’m getting more done here than I could anywhere else in the castle.” 

Harry assumed there was more to it than that, but he never pushed further. He would bring her food from the Great Hall when she said she didn’t want to leave for meals, and found that he also got a chance to finish some of the work that he had been ignoring. 

A few nights after the incident, both he and Hermione were studying in the hospital wing. Despite the dim torches hung around the room, the late winter dusk drew long shadows in the long hospital wing. Snow was falling lightly outside, but it would melt the second it touched the ground, creating an icy sludge over the grounds. 

Engrossed in his Charms work, he hadn’t realized Hermione falling asleep across from him until he heard her quill drop on the floor. He gathered their things in their bags, and with some sleepy groans of protest, he walked her back to the Gryffindor common room. It wasn’t until he had dumped his own bag at the foot of his bed when he realized he had forgotten the work he had been doing when they left. He let out a groan of irritation knowing he would have to rewrite the first half of the paper he had been writing if he didn’t go back to get it. It still wasn’t too late, he could go back and pick it up before prefects would be patrolling the halls. 

Harry swiftly left the common room, and walked the familiar path to the hospital wing. Despite how often he broke the rules to sneak around, he rarely had the chance to appreciate the castle at night. The people in the paintings were getting ready to sleep, and the suits of armor creaked as they settled into their corners. A cool breeze brushed through his shirt, and Harry sped up his pace so he could return quickly to the warmth of Gryffindor tower. 

He slowly opened the large door to the hospital wing, wincing at the loud groan it let out through the vast halls. He really didn’t want an altercation with Madam Pomfrey this late. 

But when he stepped inside and looked towards Ron’s bed it wasn’t the matron he saw, but instead the familiar mess of blond hair that sent an electric current down his spine. He was standing by the bedside table, looking over the parchment with Harry’s work that he had come to retrieve. 

“Malfoy?”

The blond froze, his eyes darting to Harry’s position at the doors, but he didn’t turn to face him.

“I’m not here for you.” Malfoy didn’t speak loudly, voices carried in the empty hall, but Harry could hear a tremble in his voice. Had he been crying? “I’m here for him.”

“What do you want with Ron?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, and even in the limited lighting and the distance between them Harry could see how bloodshot they were.

“I’m not going to do anything, you idiot. I’m leaving anyway.”

Harry recovered from his shock.

“You poisoned the wine, didn’t you?”

Malfoy kept his eyes firmly ahead of him, yet not meeting Harry's gaze as he approached the doors. 

“No. At least not directly. I may know who did, though.” He tried to push past Harry through the small crack in the doors, but Harry moved to block him.

“You’re hurting people, Malfoy.” Harry didn’t budge. “You know I can’t keep letting you do this.”

“I didn’t mean for the blood-traitor to get involved. How was I supposed to know he’s so desperate to get his hands something of value he would pounce on anything even if it didn’t belong to him?” Malfoy spat, but even he didn’t seem to believe the spite in his words.

“Watch your mouth.” Harry set his eyes and stared deep into the grey ones opposite him. It was in these moments he didn’t understand why the sparks kept exploding in his stomach. Why was he so aware of the proximity in between him and this git? Why did he want him closer? “Do you really think I’m going to let you put my friends in danger?”

“I don’t need to take this from you.” Malfoy said decisively, and pushed Harry so suddenly he was caught off guard. The blond stalked off into the shadows, and Harry had to hurry and close the hospital wing door so he could pursue him. 

Harry drew his wand. He didn’t know what he planned to do, but he had tried talking, and now Ron was in a bed in the hospital wing. This had to end, now. “You can’t keep avoiding me anymore Malfoy.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do this whole time, Potter?” Malfoy stopped in his tracks and spun around. “Every time I think I’m alone you come around from some hidden corner. You’re impossible!”

“It’s not like you’ve been subtle.”

“I’ve been subtle enough for the teachers to not find out, and Dumbledore hasn’t a clue what goes on even if it’s right under his big nose!” Malfoy said through his gritted teeth. “But you, Potter? You have an obsession.”

Heat rose under Harry’s shirt, and he could feel his face go red. 

“Why would I be obsessed with you?”

“I don’t know, ask yourself! You’re the one following me around and offering me help all the fucking time.” Malfoy’s voice was wavering again, but the tension in his jaw set it. He approached Harry a step with every word he spoke. “How are you so good?”

Harry was so taken aback by the question, he didn’t even raise his wand, and soon, Malfoy’s breath was hitting his face. How did this twat have such a hold on him?

“What are you talking about?”

Malfoy laughed humorlessly. “Jesus, you are so daft, Potter. You’ve had it out for me since we met. I poisoned your best friend and you’re still asking me questions instead of sending me straight to Dumbledore. You know I did it. Or you know I have something to do with it. So, why try to help me? Why try to save me?”

Harry’s heart rate roared in his ears as he looked up at the Slytherin (fucking Malfoy and his extra few inches of height). The blond hair fell just right over his face, the strong jawline was set with tension, the cheekbones, more prominent now than they had been a few months ago, cast soft shadows over his face. All the spite they held in between them and Harry just wanted to push it all aside to be closer to him. 

Harry noticed the gray eyes pass over his neck and chest before coming back to meet his own, and he swallowed under the pressure of his gaze. 

“Because I know this isn’t you Malfoy. You’re trying, but you can’t do it.”

Maybe it’s because it had been building up for so long, but Harry wasn’t surprised when a tear ran down the blond’s cheek. Malfoy quickly turned his face away and swiped his sleeve roughly across his face, but it was no use. More were coming now.

“I can’t.” Harry could barely hear the whisper. “I can’t do it.”

Malfoy walked to the wall and sank down on the floor. For the first time Harry became aware of where they were. He had never been in this part of the castle before. He guessed it was the route from the hospital wing to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons because the only thing illuminating the space was a few torches, and the walls were void of paintings. Harry approached Malfoy, his wand still weighing awkwardly in his hand. He realized Malfoy didn’t have his drawn. He was crouched, in tears, in front of him, and all he wanted to do was sink in between his knees and comfort him. He imagined Malfoy’s breath next to his face, and his stomach made a flip as he thought about it. When Malfoy’s tear streaked face gazed up at him, he was struck by the defiance in the blond’s face. Even when he was crying he looked determined. 

“I can’t, but I have to.” Malfoy said, his voice firm. “I’ll be ruined if I don’t do this.”

“There's another way, you don't have to-”

“You don’t understand,” Malfoy ran his hands through his hair, “I have a legacy to protect, I have a role-” Harry felt a sudden burst of anger boil over inside him.

“Don't you see?” He could barely get the words out of his mouth he was so angry. “We're the same! We both have to do messed up things because the world is telling us we do. How are we going to break out of this trap if we keep falling right into it?”

"You don’t have a bloody family,” Malfoy said defensively, “You don’t have anything you have to protect.”

“Yeah, because being the Boy Who Lived doesn’t have any expectations at all.”

“This is different! You can go around doing whatever the hell you like because you’re Harry Potter! You’re the Chosen One, you’re even Dumbledore’s favourite!” Malfoy’s words still hit despite Harry standing over him. How did he have so much power? “I’m failing everyone and I can't do anything to stop it from happening!”

“Break the cycle Malfoy, let me help you-”

“Why do you think I’m trying to avoid you, Potter?” There was nothing in Malfoy’s face but pure aggression. The truth was being dragged through his teeth and he couldn’t stop it. “I’m trying to save you. For once in my life I’m trying to do something good. Let me do this for you, because if he doesn’t kill me you’ll have to do it.”

Harry was so shocked he didn’t know what to say, but Malfoy kept going.

“I can’t save my family, I can’t even save our legacy. There’s one thing I have to fucking do to save everything I care about and I can’t get myself to fucking do it. I’m a coward. I’m a terrible Death Eater, and on top of that you’re always getting involved when you’re the last person I want around because all you do is remind me of all the things I hate about myself.” He realized he was rambling and stopped himself with fear in his eyes. But it was all Harry needed.

Harry’s heart pulled painfully. For the first time in his life he let himself give in to the urge that had ached in his gut since he witnessed the kiss in between Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson on the train in September. He sank down to sit next to the blond, feeling the air between them pack with tension.

“Why is the only thing we can do is fight?” Harry asked, not making eye contact. “We’re probably two of the only people in the world who can understand each other and all we can do is attack each other.”

Malfoy sighed deeply, and Harry tried to ignore the heat passing between their bodies as they briefly came in contact.

“It’s all I know how to do.”

“That’s what you tell yourself,” Harry said, “we can talk. In the Room of Requirement-”

“What happened in the Room of Requirement was a mistake.” Malfoy said sharply. 

An unfamiliar blade of hurt cut through Harry’s insides. He didn’t know why this comment upset him, but it did.

“It didn’t feel like a mistake.” He was so surprised by himself that Harry had to clear his throat afterwards. “I mean, it didn’t, until you ran and left.”

Malfoy turned and met his eyes, bloodshot grey piercing through the green.

“I left because...” He paused, considering his words. “You make everything so much harder.”

Harry tried not to shy away from the intensity of the air between them. Had they always been sitting so close?

“What do you mean?”

“Everything. Focusing, thinking. Fuck, even breathing. I notice when you look at me.”

Harry could feel heat rising to every inch of skin on his body. He swallowed.

“I-” He had to clear his throat before he continued, “I tried to be subtle.”

“Because you’re so good at that.” Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“That’s a lot, coming from you.” Harry said defensively. “You walk around with marks on your neck!”

Malfoy laughed. A real, genuine laugh. With every breath Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t take his eyes off the other man’s neck, he was hypnotised by his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down under the pale skin. 

“So you noticed that? You really have been paying attention.”

“It was hard to miss.”

“Well you do what you have to do. Like I said I have a reputation to uphold.” 

Malfoy caught Harry’s grimace out of the corner of his eye. 

“Don’t give me that. You should understand that much. What would people say if they found out the Malfoy’s only son is a fag?”

Harry was taken aback by how smoothly the word came out of his mouth. He immediately changed his mind. Malfoy was no stranger to slurs, why would one that applied to him be any different?

“No,” Malfoy’s face turned to stone in the dim light, and Harry felt the urge to touch every inch with the tips of his fingers, “no one can know.”

Harry reflected for a moment.

“There’s nothing to know about,” Harry said, “nothing has happened.”

Malfoy turned to him, some strands of blond hair falling over his eyes. Harry wanted to run his hands through it. His heart was beating in his throat. The proximity was intoxicating.

“Do you want something to happen?” 

Harry didn’t even internalize the words he was hearing.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, Potter,” Malfoy smirked, rolling his eyes, “I feel so safe knowing the Chosen One is so bright.”

Harry didn’t even have time to defend himself before he heard the question again. 

“Do you want something to happen?” Malfoy’s eyes were piercing into his own. Their bodies were so close. Harry glanced down at the blond’s lips. As he did they smirked again. Electricity shot down his spine as he remembered everything he had imagined those lips doing.

He lifted his eyes to meet the other’s, and all he could manage was, “Yes, God, please.”

And all of a sudden there was no space. An invisible divide between them had been breached. Harry didn’t know what he was expecting, but whatever it was this was different. He remembered the dispassionate kiss Malfoy had given Parkinson, how habitual it had seemed to him at the time. This was nothing like that. Malfoy’s lips were constantly taking, taking space, taking air, taking thoughts. And Harry just wanted to keep giving, keep offering, keep releasing. All the sparks and energy inside him finally had an outlet, and he felt the pull in his gut unwind for the first time since he had felt it. After the whole game they had been playing, the sneaking, the hiding, the lying, it felt so relieving to just give in to what had drawn them together this whole time. 

When Malfoy pulled away Harry remembered he had to bring air into his lungs.

“You’re so good.” Malfoy brought a hand to Harry’s chin and Harry was afraid he was going to fall through his hand, through the floor and into the earth. “Every part of you is so good.”

Harry was too speechless to respond. Thankfully, Malfoy saved him from making a fool of himself by leaving one more kiss, deep and smooth, before he pulled away.

“Are you sure you haven’t made a mistake?”

Harry was trying to remember how to speak through the haze in his mind.

“I don’t think so.” 

Malfoy laughed as he stood up and extended a hand to Harry. Harry took it. He hadn’t realized how weak his legs were. Is this how it would feel every time?

“I’ll let you think on that tonight,” he said, “not that I wouldn’t love to spend more time here, of course. But it is late, and I think we're pushing out luck by snogging in the middle of the halls. It would be unfortunate if a ghost were to pass by accident.”

Harry remembered where they were. He was in the dungeons somewhere. He had to make his way back to his dorm. He had to sleep, he had homework, classes to attend tomorrow. The real world suddenly came rushing back. 

“How do I know this isn’t all a trap?” He asked suddenly. To his surprise, Malfoy didn’t seem to react to his question. 

“Don’t you think I haven’t asked myself the same question?”

He turned and began walking deeper into the dungeons. Harry’s brain was still catching up to him.

“You’re not a coward.” Harry blurted out. Malfoy froze and turned his head. He looked momentarily stunned into silence. “I know you think you’re a horrible person. You might have hurt people but the fact that you’re here right now proves you haven’t gone too far.”

“I appreciate the wisdom, Potter.” Malfoy said, smiling slightly. He wasn’t convinced.

Harry was about to turn in the direction of Gryffindor tower, but a sudden realization hit him.

He groaned in irritation.

“I need my bloody Charms homework.”

“Don’t bother,” Malfoy shrugged as he walked away, “it was rubbish anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhh ikr?!?! i told yal shit went down. thank u for are ur love, i rly appreciate it. if yall wanna make my day better pls click the lil kudos button cause that lets me know yall like what im tryna do here. if u rly wanna make me smile leave a comment, say anything u want i love to read it. and if yall free gifts of good vibes sent from urs truly send this story to someone u know who might like it! remember to stay safe yall! take care of urselves physically emotionally and mentally and ill see yall in the next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whaaaaaaat? making out doesn't solve everything?!?!?!? who would have known???? MORE FLUFF!!! MORE JEALOUSY AND OTHER FUN THINGS!!!! ALL FOR U MY BBS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my lovelies!!! I just want to give a big thank you for your patience and you love. I know my upload schedule has been pretty unpredictable since school started, so thank you so much for not giving up on the story!! i try to make every chapter the best i can, i hate uploading half baked shit, and sometimes that means i hold off on publishing until i feel it's right. I don't have a beta, i'm doing all my own editing, so i really appreciate it!! i hope u like this chapter, and see y'all at the end!

“Harry you look like an animal,” Hermione said with a look of disgust on her face as she observed him shoveling eggs from his plate towards the general area of his mouth, “what on earth are you rushing for?”

Harry wasn’t paying attention. He was too excited to explain.

After the night with Malfoy, it was impossible to think of anything else. He had gotten the answer to the question he had been asking himself ever since he had witnessed Malfoy kissing Pansy Parkinson on the train in September. He knew what it was like to experience that,  _ more _ than that. All he wanted was to see more of the blond.

A few days after that night, Ron had been released from the Hospital Wing on a Sunday. By that point he had woken up a few times, even had full length conversations with them. But Hermione still insisted on doing her work by his bedside. It had taken everything in Harry’s power, even bribing her with the reward of not asking for her class notes for the foreseeable future (which he didn’t know if he could actually promise) to convince her to join him in the library instead.

Harry felt slightly guilty for his decision to force her to the library. There were so many stressed students in there, it was impossible to get any work done through the anxiety building in the air. It was for purely selfish intentions, and he still wasn’t ready to share what had happened. All he knew that there was a higher chance of running into Malfoy in the library than in the hospital wing. As much as he was trying to hide it from himself, Harry wanted to see as much of the blond as possible. He just wanted more.

However he didn’t see Malfoy in the library. And he didn’t run into him in the Great Hall. In fact, Harry didn’t see Malfoy the entire weekend. Harry thought it was a little suspicious he didn’t catch a single glimpse of the blond at all over the space of a few days. He even felt a little hurt. He didn’t know what he expected after kissing his childhood nemesis but he thought the other boy would at least make eye contact with him once in a while. 

_ Was Malfoy avoiding him? _ Harry’s stomach jumped into his throat whenever the thought entered his head. Whenever he would think that he considered taking a look in the Marauder’s Map to find out where he could be. Even if he had the parchment out in front of him he could never bring himself to speak the words that activated it. He had had no problem essentially stalking (he grimaced every time he thought the word but he had to admit to himself it’s the only word that fit) the Slytherin before when he was trying to find out what his plan was, but now things were different. Things were complicated now. Now that there was a solid chance Malfoy was interested in Harry in any way other than an enemy, and after the developments of that night, Harry couldn’t justify the obsessive behavior. 

Despite the anxiety that seemed to reside in Harry permanently concerning the boy, he could still barely contain his excitement when their next Potions class was approaching. Harry knew that if he didn’t run into the blond earlier, he would definitely see him Monday morning. For the first time in his entire life, Harry could confidently say he was looking forward to a Potions lesson. 

“We only have double Potions, mate,” Ron said with a groan, “honestly if I could I would just fall asleep again and pretend to be in my comma for another day so I wouldn’t have to go, but Madame Pomfrey saw me just talking with Dean and Seamus about Quidditch and she kicked me out! I mean what does she know?” 

“You were jumping on the bed, Ron.” Hermione pointed out.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know how I’m feeling.”

Harry wasn’t even listening. Thoughts of what had happened kept bubbling up like a tea kettle boiling over, and he couldn’t think of anything else except for lips on his own. He was perfectly content letting his mind wander and letting the events wash over him, but Ron and Hermione had begun to notice how distracted he was. He was able to dismiss most of their concerns with thoughts on Dumbledore’s private lessons, but in reality he was preoccupied with the impossible task of trying to set his mind to something that didn’t have anything to do with the blond. 

In fact, his visible  _ lack _ of attention on the blond was more suspicious. Hermione had confronted him once about it in the Hospital Wing.

“Don’t think I’m trying to pry Harry, I’m really not. And honestly I think it’s a good thing you’ve put it behind you. But I do think it’s a little strange you haven’t mentioned Malfoy once, especially with this whole situation.” She gestured at Ron’s sleeping body on the bed in between them. “You were convinced he was up to something and now lately it’s like you’ve completely forgotten about it. Has something happened?”

Harry didn’t like lying to his friends. He couldn’t even do it that well. But he knew he just wasn’t ready to tell them. It was so much,  _ too _ much to describe with words. He didn’t even think he could explain even if he wanted to. 

All he knew was that he couldn’t get the sparks inside him to calm down. The tugging sensation in his gut that had been so tight it hurt had finally unraveled and Harry felt for the first time he could exhale a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. 

Sometimes it would occur to Harry that it had probably all been a hyper realistic dream, or (an even worse yet terrifyingly more realistic option) a trap set up by Malfoy as a step in one of his schemes. Whenever those thoughts popped up in Harry’s head, he couldn’t dispel them unless he walked through his very thorough process of listing every reason why those suspicions couldn't be true. 

Malfoy has had plenty of opportunities in the past term to make a fool out of Harry or to get him in trouble, and he hasn’t taken them. Malfoy has never been one to play the long game when there is a much simpler and quicker solution right in front of him. Instant gratification has always been one of his weaknesses, even at the cost of more meaningful rewards longer down the line. Besides, even if he was trying to expose Harry, would he really go so far as to kiss him? Harry’s body didn’t need Malfoy’s lips on his own to get him to short circuit, that much was obvious from their previous encounters. Why would Malfoy go that far when just pushing Harry against a wall was all it took?

Harry hated that he couldn’t just depend on what he knew was real. Despite his feelings for Malfoy, their past and their families were still very real factors that affected their relationship, and he didn’t feel it was smart to one hundred percent trust Malfoy’s word (or his actions). Harry still wasn’t sure if he felt this way because of a valid reason or if it was just from habit, but he reckoned it would be better to proceed with caution if his body allowed it. 

Regardless of all of this mess, Harry was happy. He could feel the buzzing sensation permeate throughout his whole body, heat was spreading through every inch of his skin, and he let the anxiety and the anticipation infect his thoughts. 

He had kissed Draco fucking Malfoy. 

In the Great Hall, Harry pushed aside his clean plate and began collecting his things. 

“I’m going to try to get the memory from Slughorn before class.” He lied. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Harry?” Hermione asked. “I mean, you’re already not really on his good side since you’ve been asking him, but right now? What if he uses it against you during class?”

“He wouldn’t do anything, he still wants to be liked by his students.” Harry explained. “I think after what happened to Ron, now’s a perfect time to do it.” Even though it began as a lie, Harry was beginning to convince himself. Maybe today was the right day to do it? Not now in the morning, but perhaps later tonight?

Harry made his way into the dungeons. When he reached the classroom he found the door firmly shut, and no one remaining outside. To his disappointment, neither the professor, nor the blond were there. Slughorn was no surprise to him. He had already been orchestrating his schedule so that Harry had as little time as possible to have an individual conversation with him. After Harry’s first failed attempt to ask about Horcruxes he would arrive at every class on time by the second, and he would be the first to leave the classroom at the end. However Harry was disappointed about Malfoy. The Slytherin was known to skip classes in recent months, there was a very real possibility he wouldn’t come. Upon reflection, Harry couldn’t find a reason why what happened in between them the other night should change the chances that Draco showed up to class or not. If anything, considering the past weekend, it might be a reason for him not to come at all. 

As the minutes crawled by Harry became increasingly anxious. He didn’t realize how much he had been looking forward to seeing the blond until the reality that he might not get to was right in front of his nose. Soon, students were beginning to show up for class. Every time Harry heard the footsteps of another person making their way to the dungeon his heart began to race at the thought of finally being face to face with him again. 

Ron and Hermione came down, and shortly after Slughorn came. Ron and Hermione kept giving questioning glances at Harry, probably trying to find out how he was planning on getting information about a hidden memory and the darkest magic of all time integral to defeating Voldemort in front of a dozen other students. If Harry was going to be honest, they were probably all so bored and sleep deprived they wouldn’t internalize any of the information even if it was put right in front of them, but he wasn’t thinking about Slughorn right now. 

As they all filed into the classroom Harry was resigning himself to sitting alone and two more hours of trying to focus on potions work through the rollercoaster of thoughts all featuring the Slytherin, when the very person he was hoping to see came sliding through the door just as it was swinging closed behind the last student that had come in. 

Harry’s blood was soaring through his veins. He was so distracted by the blond’s sudden appearance he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, and he stubbed his toe on the corner of his work table. Cursing silently, Harry hoped he hadn’t seen that, but when Malfoy came to join him at the back of the class, he was smirking.

“What’s wrong?” he asked teasingly, “Be careful, otherwise people might be inclined to spread rumors about the Chosen One.”

“Well you would know that wouldn’t be any different than usual, Malfoy.” Harry said. 

“Malfoy?” The blond raised an eyebrow. He took a step closer to him, pressing Harry against the worktable. In the bustle of everyone taking their seats, no one was paying attention to the two of them at the back of the class. “Potter, I know what your tongue feels like. I think we’re allowed to be on a first name basis now.”

He quickly pulled away and took his seat. Harry swallowed hard and had to make a conscious effort to not make an extremely embarrassing noise. He was so flustered, he hadn’t noticed that the whole class was already seated and looking at him with looks of confusion.

He quickly sat down and pressed his nose firmly in his Potions book, not looking up during Slughorn’s whole speech about what potion they would be making today. He could hear Malfoy - no,  _ Draco _ \- chuckle next to him. Hearing him laugh stirred a confusing mix of emotions within Harry. His immediate reaction was to get angry and defensive. This was combined with his new instinct to want to hear as much of that laugh as possible and run his fingers over the blond’s throat as he did it so he could feel the vibrations through his fingertips. 

This just made Harry turn red and sweat profusely. 

Slughorn continued listing off the instructions for the day’s lesson. As he spoke his voice turned into warbled background noise. Harry kept glancing over to the boy sitting next to him. It was no surprise to him why Draco seemed more exhausted than usual, seeing as he had practically disappeared all weekend. His skin was pale, his hair listless, and the lids of his eyes were heavy over his grey eyes. 

Despite this Harry still felt so… drawn to him. He wanted the knot in his gut to become unraveled again, he wanted  _ Draco _ to unravel him. He felt this constant pull in between them, and now that he had felt what it was like to be close to him once, he felt like he was going through withdrawal. Sitting like this, mere inches apart, was worse than not having seen him at all over the weekend. At least then Harry had been able to lose himself in his thoughts. Now, all he could think about was how he wanted to press his lips against the other’s and he couldn’t. 

Harry was brought out of his thoughts when there was a sudden bustle of movement. People were pulling out cauldrons and ingredients, talking to each other animatedly about what they had done that weekend, and trying to decipher the instructions in their books about the potion they were supposed to make. 

Harry hurriedly began pulling out his materials, placing the Half Blood Prince’s book on the table. 

“Why do you use this book?”

“What?” Harry looked up. Malfoy was flipping through the pages of his vandalized Potions book, frowning slightly as he tried to decipher the handwritten notes. Harry fought the instinct to snatch the book back. After his friends’ constant criticism of the Prince he had grown very defensive over the book, but looking at the way Draco was looking at it he didn’t seem suspicious, just very confused. 

“Clearly you can get a new one. Why do you insist on using this one? I’ve seen you read through it even when we don’t have classwork to do, and I know your potions skills are not improving in proportion to the amount of time you’ve spent looking at it.” Harry was about to send a retort, but when Malfoy put the book down he could tell it wasn’t out of maliciousness. Harry was struggling to tell when Draco was being sarcastic and when he was being insulting. On the surface, it would seem like he treats his enemies and his friends in the same way. 

“The notes actually make it easier.” Harry said. He didn’t know why he was telling this to Malfoy who, for all intents and purposes up until  _ very _ recently, was essentially his nemesis. He felt like wherever Draco would accept help, even if it was just in Potions class, was a good start. “Someone changed the instructions and it actually works better than the real ones in the book. That’s- that’s how I’ve been doing so well in class this year.”

Harry expected Draco to burst out laughing. He thought that this was enough to make the boy end all interactions with him.  _ “Really, Potter? You’re so bad at potions that you need to cheat to pass? Yet another disappointment from the Boy Who Lived, how am I not surprised?” _

But that’s not at all what happened. Draco just raised his eyebrows and smirked. 

“I didn’t think you had it in you, Potter.” He said. “I’m impressed. Wish I had thought of that, it might make this class bearable to sit through.”

“You can use it with me.” Harry blurted out. Draco gave him a quizzical look but didn’t refuse. “I just mean-” Harry continued, “if you need help. It’s pretty useful, if you don’t know what to do, and if you’re not paying attention. Not that I assume you’re not paying attention, it’s just I’m not paying attention- a lot.”. He could feel heat build up inside him with embarrassment. Why couldn’t he ever shut up? 

But all Draco did was smile. Real smiles are so rare to see on his face these days. He almost just looked tired, instead of carrying his entire family legacy on his shoulders the entire time. 

“All right.” he said, pulling out his own materials. “Maybe between me and this book your aptitude in potions might rise slightly above abysmal.

Harry learned quickly that his aptitude for anything wouldn’t rise very much while working with Draco Malfoy. His proximity was intoxicating. Every time Harry breathed the smell of coffee and mint and something else he couldn’t quite place would fill his nose and send signals straight to his brain. Thank god they were working together because with the amount of mistakes Harry would have made had Draco not stopped him his potion would have burst into flames within fifteen minutes. 

Harry kept getting distracted by the sharp collar bones not quite hidden under the blond’s thin shirt, the jawline that was directly at Harry’s eye level, and the soft lips right above that. Whenever Draco would lean over him he would freeze and whatever he was in the middle of doing would be interrupted. Whenever he had to reach for something across the worktable he would brush his hand over Harry’s, his cold fingers passing over Harry’s seemingly perpetually moist ones. After a while Harry suspected that Draco was beginning to do it on purpose. Every time Harry would stammer or get flustered Draco would cast his roguish smile.

The lesson seemed to crawl by at a snail’s pace, but eventually they had all finished, and Slughorn was making his rounds to check on everyone’s final product. When he arrived at Harry and Draco’s work table he made a dramatic gasp, throwing his arms wide as if he had just discovered gold at the bottom of their cauldrons. 

“My boys, this is one of the best Elixirs to Induce Euphoria I have ever seen! I honestly can not determine which one is best.” He leaned over to compare the two. “Is that peppermint, I smell? In both? What a stroke of genius, but of course! That would offset some of the more minor side effects. It seems as though Potter here must have taught you a thing or two, Malfoy. Well done!”

The look on Malfoy’s face turned sour in an instant. If Harry didn’t know any better he would have thought Malfoy would have cursed Slughorn right there and then. Harry didn’t know what to do as Slughorn walked to the front of the class, going on about it was the small moments of innovation that defined the potion maker, and how only a select few in the class (Harry) had the “spark of imagination needed to become a true potions master.” By the end of his speech, nearly the whole class was sending ugly looks at Harry. 

When Slughorn dismissed the class, he left almost immediately, so as to not let Harry have even a moment of his time in case he brought up the memory again, and the rest of the class followed in equal haste. Ron and Hermione stayed behind for a moment to wait for Harry, but he told them to go ahead. They didn’t even hesitate in leaving, which meant even they were probably getting tired of the Prince’s interference as much as the rest of the students. Harry decided to deal with that later.

In the space of a few moments, it was just Harry and Draco alone in the classroom together. 

“Wow, must be nice.” Malfoy said tonelessly.

“Must be-?” Harry asked. “What are you talking about?”

Malfoy lets his bag drop to the floor and straightens himself, gaining those few inches of height.

“You really think people’s expectations of you are impossible to reach but you don’t realize you don’t even have to try to amaze everyone.”

His voice came out calmly, not explosive and sharp like when he was really angry. Harry felt like the Slytherin was just stating facts, which almost made him angrier.

“It’s not like I want him to go on like that. I never ask for this to happen.” Harry retorted.

“Right, it must be terrible to be praised. Forgive me, I didn’t realize how suffocating admiration could be.”

A long list of everything Harry disliked (or had disliked in the past) about Malfoy ran through his mind, all of them reminders of why his constant, ever-present need to be close to him was wrong. His instinct was to fight back, but he reminded himself of his own words. 

_ “We’re probably two of the only people in the world who can understand each other and all we can do is attack each other.” _

Harry took a deep breath and looked calmly into the handsome face.

“Let’s not fight, please?” He would admit he sounded a little pathetic, but after how close they had come the other night, he couldn’t stand it if the one person who could ease the ache in his body was pushed away for something as petty as this.

Malfoy seemed momentarily stunned by Harry’s question, but the moment was broken when he rolled his eyes. He brought his thumb and index to the bridge of his, closing his eyes against something that seemed to be forcing its way into his head. He took a deep breath as well, and when he looked at Harry again, he seemed almost just like he was during class.

“You’re right, it’s stupid.” He looked over Harry’s face, taking in every detail. He took two steps towards him, dragging one hand over the desk so he was almost trapping Harry. “It’s like I told you, you’re so good.”

Draco’s grey eyes traveled over Harry slowly. Seeing the blond observe him so closely and take him apart with his eyes made heat pool in Harry’s gut, and the tips of fingers began to prickle with a numbness that made Harry squirm. That look made Harry want to reach for the other boy’s tie and yank his face down to his level, yet also whimper and melt into a puddle at the same time. 

“I-” Harry could barely get a sentence out, “I just don’t want to have to go without you.” He immediately realized how that sounded and he immediately tried to fix it. “I mean, I can, like, live without you, but it just seemed like- after that happened that we were getting closer and-”

Draco leaned over Harry, pressing his lower back into the edge of the desk, gently took Harry’s chin, and pulled it closer. Harry immediately stopped his stuttering and fell into the deep grey eyes that were overwhelming his sight. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears and every time he breathed his chest pressed into the body hovering over him. He watched in anticipation as the grey eyes passed over his own eyes, down to his parted lips.

“Did you miss me?” Malfoy asked with a smirk. Harry could barely do more than a slight nod. Draco’s face broke into a mischievous smile. “I’m sorry I had to leave you all alone for that long weekend, I’ll try not to let it happen again.” 

And with that he pulled Harry’s lips towards his own and as they came together they inhaled sharply, taking in each other’s breath, scent, taste. Their lips moved with each other seamlessly, expressing what words couldn’t. Harry thought that after the first time he wouldn’t have so strong a reaction, but he was melting in the blond’s hands. If the Slytherin’s body wasn’t pressing him against the desk his legs would have given out by now. Draco was drawing out Harry’s breath, constantly taking, and Harry kept giving, letting the air get pulled from his lungs. He was so lost he couldn’t stop the moan from being released from his throat. 

Draco chuckled against Harry’s lips. He pulled apart and looked amusingly at the shorter boy’s face. 

“Good lord, Potter, I didn’t know you missed me that much.” His eyes glazed over as he looked at Harry’s wet lips. “If you’re lucky I won’t leave your side ever again.”

Harry was about to fold himself into nonexistence out of embarrassment, but those words jerked him into reality.

“Wait, what did you say?”

Draco gave him a look of slight confusion. “I was joking, don’t worry. It’s not like I actually plan on never leaving you alone-”

“No, before that.”

“I said I didn’t know you missed me so much, and if you’re lucky I might never leave your side.”

Harry’s thoughts were racing. Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of that before! The amount of time that could have been saved. He had even had it in his hands, he had already pretended to use it.

He knew what he needed to do to get Slughorn’s memory. He had to be  _ lucky _ .

“I’m sorry,” he said, as he extricated himself from the space in between the desk and Draco’s body, “I have to go, it’s important.”

“What?” Draco looked more confused than Harry had ever seen in his life. He honestly thought it was kind of adorable, but he was in too much of a hurry collecting his bag.

“Don’t worry, it’s not about you, it’s something else. Something I have to do, a job Dumbledore gave me.”

Harry was in so much of a hurry he didn’t notice Draco narrow his eyes as he watched Harry burst through the door out of the classroom.

* * *

“You're going to do what?” Hermione exclaimed in the Gryffindor common room, making a group of nearby third years give them judgmental looks.

“I’m going to use the Felix Felicis to get the memory from Slughorn.” Harry explained again. “It’s my best shot.”

“Harry, I don’t know about that,” Ron said with uncertainty, “what if you need it for something more important later?” In the singular day since he had been released from the hospital he had taken Hermione’s side on everything, even if it was something as small as deciding when they were going to study to where they were going to eat in the Great Hall. It was as if in his comatose state he had reflected on all the arguments they had had, and now he was just desperate to make it up to her again. Harry would be surprised if Hermione hadn’t noticed, but she didn’t show any signs that she had.

“What could be more important than this?” Harry asked. The more he talked about it the more he was convinced it was the right thing to do. “Dumbledore needs this memory in order to find Voldemort’s-” Harry ignored their winces “- weakness and possibly even how to destroy it. I’m going to do it after lessons today, that’s when I know he’s free.”

Hermione and Ron exchanged skeptical glances, but they didn’t argue with him, so Harry left it at that. 

After lessons he waited until the evening until he went up to his dorm and dug through his trunk, finally finding the small vial of clear liquid. When he held it up to the light he could swear he saw little golden flakes swirling around in the mixture. 

He joined the others in the practically empty common room. Not only was it dinner, but it was nearing the evening, and now that winter was now steadily turning into spring, students were also taking the chance to go outside in the sunset for the first time in months. 

“All right.” He said to Ron and Hermione, trying to suppress the nervousness. It was buzzing between his ears and in his fingertips. He tried not to focus on the fact that this was essentially his last chance at getting the memory. If this failed, he didn’t know what he would do, and he didn’t think he could handle disappointing Dumbledore again. 

He uncorked the vial, and smelled it. It didn’t smell of anything, Harry couldn’t decide if that made it better or worse. After a few moments of hesitation he took a careful gulp. It took a few moments, both of his friends looking at him expectantly the whole time, until he steadily felt an overwhelming sense of giddiness. 

How could he have been nervous? Everything was going to work out in the end regardless. He just had to do what felt right.

“How do you feel?” Hermione asked. 

“Brilliant.” Harry said. The word bubbled up out of this throat and popped out of his mouth. It felt  _ right _ . “Amazing. Fantastic. I’m actually going to go down to Hagrid’s.”

Ron and Hermione looked so stunned their jaws would probably have dropped to the ground if they could. 

“But Harry,” Hermione said carefully, “You were going to get the memory from Slughorn.”

“Yeah,” Harry said excitedly, “I will, but I  _ really  _ feel like Hagrid’s is the place to be right now, you know?”

Ron and Hermione stared at him. 

“No, not really.”

But Harry wasn’t listening. He was already walking to the portrait hole. 

The next morning he struggled to recount the story to Ron and Hermione during breakfast in the Great Hall. The entire night had passed like a blur. The events that had transpired, the way everything had fallen into place, it was all so bizarre even if Harry hadn’t taken the potion (was sober the right word?). He had run into Slughorn on his way to Hagrid's, they buried Aragog, Slughorn and Hagrid got more than a little tipsy, and then after all that, he had finally succeeded in getting the memory. The relief Harry felt after securing it was hard to compare to any other feeling in the world. He had done it. That night he had slept more restfully than he had done in years. 

“What, he just gave it to you? Just like that?” Ron asked incredulously. 

“I can’t believe you got a teacher drunk.” Hermione whispered. “Harry, what if you get into trouble?”

“Technically they got themselves drunk,” Harry defended himself. “I was just lucky.”

Ron snorted, turning back to his food as Hermione rolled her eyes and started ranting about how unprofessional it was for the two professors to behave that way in front of Harry, yes even if Hagrid’s horrid giant pet spider died, it’s no excuse. 

They were interrupted by a sudden commotion of whispering towards the entrance of the Great Hall. People were giggling, talking excitedly, poking their friends across the table and pointing to what they were looking at. Soon the entire hall was casting glances at the entrance. Ron, who was sitting closest, saw what was happening and immediately turned back towards his food. 

“What a git,” he sneered, “he thinks he’s so cool. Doesn’t he realize that no one cares?”

Harry looked at where Ron’s gaze had been towards the entrance. Before he could really understand what he was seeing, blood immediately rushed to the surface of his skin. His heartbeat roared in his ears, electricity ran through his muscles and his fists clenched. It took everything in his power to not grab his wand and send a hex flying at that moment in front of everyone.

Walking in through the large double doors of the Great Hall was Draco, hair mussed and wildly out of place, shirt wrinkled and untucked, tie hanging loosely around his neck and his collar open. His neck and chest was covered in violent purple bruises blossoming over his pale skin. As if it couldn’t get any worse, he wasn’t alone. His arm was wrapped casually around Pansy Parkinson, who looked as though she were parading around with a massive gold trophy by her side. She wasn’t even looking at Malfoy, she was taking in all the looks of judgement, jealousy, and admiration, using them to float her across the room as if she was literally looking down on everyone from above. 

Draco eyes, dark and storming scanned the Hall until they fell upon Harry’s green ones. He observed Harry, looked him up and down, taking in Harry’s burning face and shaking fists. The blond smirked, clearly pleased with the reaction. Harry thought he was going to say something, send a non verbal message, hold eye contact at least. 

But no. Draco’s eyes passed over him, and then moved on. He and Pansy Parkinson sat by the Slytherin table and began to talk to their friends, ignoring the whispers and the gossip flying around them. As far as Draco was concerned, Harry barely existed to him. And if he did, he was no more than another face in the rest of the crowd, boosting the blond’s massive ego through his anger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhh i love jelousy, i promise im not mean mwahahaha  
> for real tho u guys i rly love y'all, these comments make my heart burst they're so nice, and all the kudos you've been dropping makes my day. i'm so happy y'all are enjoying reading this as much as i'm enjoying writing it. Make sure to share the love if you can! if you know someone else who might like this story pls share so we can all simp together.   
> Love y'all, stay safe out there, and don't forget to take care of yourselves. see y'all in the next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> asdldjnfldsnlaksnfl cljad bckfjdb i cant this shit is too much fights and serious shit and ahhhhh the end is coming u guysssss  
> (TW: this chapter contains descriptions of blood)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! i know that everyone else knows all the shit that's been going on. the election, destiel becoming canon in the most homophobic way possible, all the other shit, a lot has been going down! Among other thingsm this fic just passed 1k hits! I can't thank you enough you guys im so happy you guys are enjoying this story as much as i enjoy writing it. thank you so much for being patient and supportive, i know y'all aren't having it easy rn so i appreciate yall sticking w the story even tho my opload schedule has turned into an exponential graph at this point.   
> with that said i hope y'all enjoy this chapter! this is a big one, i've been looking forward to it for a while, and i hope i did it justice. keep in mind the trigger warnings (descriptions of blood in this chapter so incase y'all are sensitive to that) and see y'all at the end!

Harry was so angry he could feel his veins burst. For a moment he remained tensely still, burrowing his gaze into Malfoy, hoping that the intensity of his star would get to the blond to notice him, at least make eye contact with him. Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t until he noticed Ron and Hermione giving him strange glances that he finally unclenched his fists and pretended to take part in their conversation. 

While Draco may have been out of sight, he was most certainly not out of mind. For the rest of the day Harry was irritable and aggressive. He couldn’t control his temper. Every time he tried to close his eyes, take a few breaths, and focus on the task at hand, the image of the blond, marked with bruises and with his disheveled hair waltz into his head like he had into the Great Hall that morning, and Harry blood was rushing. 

Harry’s anger stemmed from absolute confusion. Just when he thought he had a grasp on the Slytherin something like this happened that made him question everything. He was beginning to get very sick of Malfoy’s behavior. Why couldn’t Harry just let it go? Why couldn’t he ignore the tugging sensation that pulled him closer and closer to the blond? 

When Harry tried to dismiss those thoughts, pale fingers would intrude into his mind, graze his chin, pul him in close, and soft lips would press against his. He would sink against the other, feel the pressure against him. Suddenly the image of Pansy Parkinson and Draco on the Hogwarts Express would appear in his mind. If Harry didn’t stop himself then it would only get worse, it would always be those two together. Pansy walking Draco through the double doors of the Great Hall, Pansy pressing Draco against a wall in a hidden corridor, Pansy kissing and biting the blond;s neck. Harry would be red in the face, his clothes getting overwhelmingly stuffy and hot, his blood pumping.

What gave Malfoy the right? So what, Harry wasn’t confident and sure of himself like Parkinson was, but he had never mentioned that’s what he wanted. Harry couldn’t understand. Draco had wanted  _ him _ . So why was Draco punishing him? The last time they had spoken was after their potions lesson. Sure, Harry had interrupted him and left suddenly, but that was important, he had to do his job for Dumbledore. 

_ Dumbledore _ . Harry had almost forgotten. He had acquired the memory now, which meant he had to see Dumbledore  _ that night _ . Despite his elevated heart rate, Harry allowed himself a moment of respite from his rage to feel relieved and accomplished at what he had done. He had managed to secure the memory, one of the integral pieces of the puzzle that would lead to Voldemort’s weakness.

* * *

“ _ Six _ Horcruxes?” Hermione said, incredulously. “That shouldn’t be possible”

“Why not?” Ron said. “He’s the most powerful evil wizard of all time, why wouldn’t he look at the darkest magic in the world and then think to himself, ‘How can I make this six times worse?’”

They were working on turning vinegar into wine in Charms, and Harry had just finished quietly explaining what had happened in his meeting with Dumbledore. 

When Harry had crawled into his four poster bed the night before he had almost sunk right through the mattress and through the bed frame from the weight of all his newly discovered responsibilities. He couldn’t sleep the whole night, not until after the first rays of sunshine had started peeking up from over the forests and mountains in the distance. All that was going through his head was thoughts of Horcruxes, six random items that could be anywhere in the country, anywhere in the  _ world _ , and he had to find them and destroy them to even have a  _ chance _ of defeating Voldemort face to face.

“I mean, in theory it is possible,” Hermione swirled her goblet in her hand, the only one in the whole class with dark crimson liquid while everyone else was struggling with their still very transparent vinegar, “but it’s such dark magic I wouldn’t think even someone like You-Know-Who would dare attempt something so drastic. He wouldn’t even need to, he already had all of his followers and the fear they perpetuated. It’s just so he can prove to himself he’s more powerful than anyone else.”

Harry shivered. He was reminded of a phrase Dumbledore had quoted. 

_ “I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality.” _

Harry had forgotten Voldemort spoke those very words to him in the graveyard the night of the Triwizard Tournament until Dumbledore repeated them back to him. Hermione was exactly right. What made Voldemort so dangerous is that his main purpose wasn’t to control the entire wizarding world in Britain, he was doing it to become so powerful he surpassed Man entirely. 

Harry didn’t know if it was the anxiety thoughts about Horcruxes, but neither he nor Ron had successfully managed to turn their vinegar into wine. Professor Flitwick gave them a disapproving look, but they left too quickly for him to assign them any extra work. 

“We should practice these charms together,” Hermione said, packing her books in her bag as they made their way out of the Charms corridor.

“Hermione, honestly.” Ron rolled his eyes. “Harry’s just told us about the darkest magic that exists and you’re asking us to practice charms? Harry has one of the most important roles in wizarding history.” Hermione only rolled her eyes, but Harry had to try to not get irritated at Ron’s comment. Despite the urge he felt to make a rude remark how yes, he was aware of how big this mission was, and yes, he was struggling with the weight of his new responsibility, and  _ yes _ , he knew he had to practice this charm because how was he going to save the entire wizarding world if he couldn’t turn water into wine? His throat started to close in anxiety, which was uncomfortable but at least it stopped him from snapping.

“Yes, I’m sure Harry is ecstatic.” Hermione said sarcastically as they turned a corner. “Assuming he actually knows anything about these Horcruxes and how to destroy them.”

The anxiety in his throat got tighter and tighter.

“I’m sure he does!” Ron said, coming to Harry’s defense which he would have admired at literally  _ any other time _ . “I’m sure Dumbledore knows everything but he’s just being tricky about it. You know how he is.”

“I have to go.” Harry said, startling both Ron and Hermione. He didn’t bother to provide any more explanation. His heart hammered in chest as he turned sharply and began walking in the other direction. 

* * *

Harry regretted storming off from his friends, because he realized (as he did every time there was conflict between them) that there was not much for him to do without his friends. He knew that there was a mountain of homework he should have been doing. In between Quidditch, Dumbledore’s meetings, trying to get the memory from Slughorn and whatever was happening with Draco, he was falling further and further behind on his school work. He was barely making it through every week, but at least as he wasn’t doing so badly his professors were actually concerned it would be fine. 

So instead of doing what he knew he should have been he spent his time lying on his four poster bed, reading the Half Blood Prince’s book. Many of the Prince’s annotations actually had nothing to do with Potions, and Harry had bookmarked the ones he had found the most interesting and tested them out. They were harmless really, just jinxes and hexes, and they always had the counter spell written with it. Despite how much he had tried to tell the others they were harmless, he had never quite managed to convince them since he had almost woken his entire dormitory up in the middle of the night from launching Ron into the air by his ankle. It had been an accident, and Harry had immediately put Ron down and apologized profusely. This little gimmick had officially put the Half Blood Prince at the same level as Death Eaters as far as Hermione was concerned. 

“It might have been harmless now,” she had said over breakfast the next morning after Ron had told her, “but imagine what could have happened! Harry, you know better than to try out random spells you find written down in old textbooks.”

“Hermione, it was fine, really,” Ron was trying to calm her down. Harry was surprised when he found out Ron was on his side. He wouldn’t appreciate if someone had woken him up from yanking his whole body into the air upside down, even if it was by accident. He didn’t know whether Ron was afraid of getting on Hermione’s bad side, or if by some chance he might be able to use the Half Blood Prince’s book to get ahead in Potions, but whatever the reasoning may have been Harry didn’t question it. 

Since that night he hadn’t tried any other spells out. He knew that it was a bad idea, and even though he doubted anything terrible would be contained within its pages, he of all people knew it was foolish to assume these things. 

He flipped through the pages of the book, remembering the spells he had marked down, and recited them quietly to himself. He came across a spell he had found weeks before. 

_ Sectumsempra. _

_ For enemies _ .

His body was buzzing with anticipation and the urge to know what that spell could do. None of the other spells in the book were this cryptic, and it was almost killing Harry with suspense. 

His excitement was cut short with a sudden twist of his gut and a pair of unforgiving grey eyes. 

With everything about the Horcruxes he had almost forgotten about Malfoy. The image of him walking into the Great Hall with Pansy Parkinson intruded into Harry’s mind. He remembered the violent purple marks blemishing the pale skin. He couldn’t stop picturing them and what they meant. He couldn’t help but picture Parkinson pressing her lips, her whole body, against the blond’s, doing to him what Harry wished he could do. Harry couldn’t stop the heat pooling in his gut.

He slammed the Potions book shut out of shame and humiliation. What was wrong with him? Malfoy was toying with him, baiting him just like he always did. 

The pool of heat suddenly turned into a flame of anger that ignited within him as he replayed the moment in his mind. Malfoy was making a fool out of him. Sure, it was known to nobody else but him, but that in a sense made it worse. He was getting back at him and he couldn’t explain it to anyone. 

The anger grew and grew inside Harry. He didn’t deserve this. He knew Malfoy acted out when he felt threatened or insulted, that’s what had been happening this whole time. But now, Harry couldn’t for the life of him figure out what Draco was retaliating for. 

Harry had tried repeatedly to bridge the gap between them. He could barely admit to himself why head tried so hard. Every time he saw the blond his heart began to race, his blood would start pumping, his body would heat up like someone had hexed him. Every time Draco got close his mind would short circuit. He knew all of this, he had experienced it so many times. And he still couldn’t say the words. 

He thought Draco had felt the same about him. 

The anger that had been barely a wand’s width from tipping over the edge since the day began was getting dangerously close to exploding. Harry couldn’t calm himself down, he couldn’t get the images out of his head.

He needed to talk to Malfoy. 

He was about to just grab his wand and march out of the dormitory when he realized he didn’t even know where the Slytherin was. He was about to give up immediately when he mentally kicked himself. He didn’t need to know, he had exactly what he needed to find out. 

He fervently began to dig through his trunk. He was throwing clothes and books and other items all over the room until he found the parchment he was looking for. 

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” He said quickly, his body not being able to keep up with his thoughts. He waited impatiently for the ink splotches to come together in the map of Hogwarts and frantically began scanning the hundreds of name tags. The longer it took the more anxious he was that he wouldn’t be able to find it. What if he was in the Room of Requirement? What if he wasn’t even on the grounds at all?

Luckily for him, Draco’s tag was isolated from the rest. He wasn’t in the Room of Requirement, to his relief, but on the floor below in fact. He was in the boy’s bathroom on the sixth floor, alone. 

Not waiting to reflect on what he could be doing there, Harry rushed out of the Gryffindor common room. 

He half walked, half sprinted to location, praying Malfoy would still be there when he arrived. He wasn’t even sure about what he was going to say. His anger propelled him past students and painting and suits of armor without a thought to anything else except his destination and who he would find there. 

When he made it to the sixth floor bathrooms Harry didn’t hesitate one moment before bursting through the doors.

“When did you get those marks?” He called out as he stepped in, not even bothering to scan the miserable bathroom to find where Malfoy was first.

It didn’t make much of a difference. Draco was right in front of him, hunched over the ceramic sink. For a split second Harry made eye contact with him in the reflection of the mirror. He was stunned with shock by what he saw. He saw Draco’s bloodshot eyes sunken into his face, his skin rubbed raw and red from wiping away tears. The blond immediately dipped his head down into the sink to hide himself, frantically rinsing his face.

“I- are you crying right now?”

“What do you want, Potter?” His voice was muffled under the running water. When he turned it off he hunched over the sink, not even making eye contact with Harry. A wave of anger rose up inside of Harry, forcing words to bubble up his throat.

“Oh, so I’m ‘Potter’ now? That’s not what I was hearing in Potions when you were talking about-” he choked over his words, “my- tongue… and stuff.”

“You always were so verbose.” Harry could hear Malfoy’s sneer without even having to see his face.

“This isn’t about that! What about those bruises?” Harry immediately felt guilty for being so defensive, he wasn’t the one crying right now. He was going to add something to soften the blow. For a split second, he was even thinking of letting go of his anger completely. Draco didn’t make that feeling last long.

“Can’t you tell I don’t want to talk about my mistakes, Potter?” Draco spat, not looking up from the sink.

Harry was beginning to get tired of their back and forth. How many times would they have to fight before they could learn to communicate? 

“I don’t really care what you want or not right now Malfoy. You’re not being honest with me.”

For the first time, Draco turned around and met Harry’s gaze head on. His eyes were like steel, slicing and piercing through anything they looked at.

“Oh really? Because you’ve been incredibly honest with me this whole time.”

Harry floundered under Malfoy’s gaze. He couldn’t get his voice to carry through the space between them. “I- sure I have.”

Draco rolled his eyes, clearly not convinced. “That was weak even for you. Don’t you think it’s a little hypocritical to ask me to be completely transparent when I know you’ve been having secret meetings with Dumbledore.”

“How-”

“You and your friends are not subtle. Maybe don’t talk about the one and only weakness of the most powerful dark wizard on earth in crowded hallways in the middle of the day?”

“That’s in between me and Dumbledore.” Harry felt his neck heat up in embarrassment. How could he have been so stupid? 

“And the entire Harry Potter entourage, apparently.”

“Are you jealous right now? Is that what’s happening?”

“Jealous?” Draco laughed humorlessly. The look he gave Harry was enough to send chills down his spine. It was the look of someone who truly didn’t care about what they lost. “You’re the one who came all the way here to talk about these marks on my neck!”

“Which I still haven’t gotten an explanation for by the way.” Harry tried to regain some footing in the argument.

“They don’t mean anything! I forget how daft you are sometimes, Potter. I told you, I have a reputation to uphold. If I stopped having sex with my girlfriend of over a year don’t you think people would get suspicious?”

Harry was, for a second time, stunned into silence. Suddenly key moments in the past few months came back to Harry. The kiss between Draco and Pansy on the train, the hickey he had during that first potions class. Harry didn’t want to admit that his inexperience in the world of intimacy was one of the main factors fueling this argument.

“You’ve had a girlfriend for over a year?” 

“You see?” Any sign of distress had momentarily dissipated from Malfoy’s face and a mixture of exasperation, irritation, and hurt took its place. “You get angry when I insult you about how oblivious you are but you’re honestly just begging for it to happen.”

“How did I not know?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Potter.” His voice began to rise, his words coming out like bullets. “You like to think it’s because I hate you but really it's because you’re the most stuck up, selfish, self involved person I have ever had the misfortune of knowing-”

“Excuse me?” Harry spoke before he was even aware of what he was saying. The audacity of the words he had just heard outweighed anything else in the situation. “I’m the stuck up selfish one? You and your entire family work for a wizard supremacist!”

For a split second it looked like Malfoy was going to curse him, he didn’t even bother to hide the rage in his face. He collected himself enough for his voice to come out clear, slow, and dangerous. “Is that why you won’t tell me about what you talk about with Dumbledore?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It has everything to do with it!” He was almost screaming now. “You always talk about how I can change my ways and that I have a choice but when you have the chance you don’t let me take it!” He lowered his voice, knowing the damage his words would cause and relishing every moment of it. “I knew you didn’t trust me.”

Harry absorbed the impact of his words. Harry could feel walls closing in on him and he didn’t know how to escape. He was being trapped. 

“That’s not fair.” Those were the only words he could bring himself to say.

“How is that not fair?” Draco was beginning to look a little hysterical, dangerously like their encounter in the Room of Requirement. Harry was reminded of the caged animal he had thought of during their encounter in the Three Broomsticks. The Slytherin was lashing out and not even Harry knew how to stop him. 

“You’re always talking about how we are the same. That we’re the only people who can understand each other. You know that’s a lie! Do you know how I know? While you’re having secret meetings with your master, mine is appearing in my dreams.”

Harry wanted to say so many things at once he couldn’t get his voice to work. A wave of disgust sank through him at Malfoy calling Dumbledore his master, the fact someone would see his relationship with Dumbledore like that floored him. At the same time, he wanted to insist that yes, they were the same, they were both trying to play the game with the hands they had been dealt, they were both trying to survive, but the longer this conversation continued the more hopeless he felt. Perhaps enemies were the only thing they could be to each other.

What disturbed Harry the most was what Malfoy had mentioned at the end. Horror descended on his face. 

“I can hide who I am from this entire school but  _ he _ knows what I really am.” Draco covered his face with his hands, tensing and grasping like they were trying to fight a presence in his own head. When he spoke his voice was strained, pain and exhaustion tearing through his throat. Harry had experienced Voldemort’s mind altering sorcery. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Draco to live with that for almost a year.

“He knows I'm a disgusting fag. He knows how much I hate myself for it.” When Draco dropped his hands, he could barely meet his eyes. Dead, grey eyes peered through the listless hair. Harry didn’t know how much more he could take. “That’s why he made me do this. Because he knows I’ll fail.”

Harry’s blood was pumping violently through his veins. His whole body was tense. Thoughts were rushing and screaming in his head but he didn’t dare listen to them.

“Draco liking- being…” He tried to string a coherent sentence together and his voice kept failing him. He couldn’t even admit…  _ it _ to himself, how was he supposed to comfort someone else? “Being close to me doesn’t make you a traitor.” 

With every fiber of his being calling out in protest, he took a step towards the blond.

“Don’t.” Malfoy pulled his wand out immediately, and pointed it right at Harry’s chest. Harry was panicking, but his hands were calm and steady. He took another step forward. He had to save him.

“You’re not a bad person-”

“Don’t come near me!”

“Draco-”

Harry was interrupted by a bright light shooting towards him, narrowly missing his face as it sped past him and hit the wall behind him. By the time he realized what was happening, Malfoy was already preparing another spell. 

Harry dove behind the row of stalls, just in time to see another curse sail through the air where he had just been. He grabbed his wand, breathing heavily, and crouched as closely as he could to the wall. 

He had tried talking. He knew that Draco was not in a space to listen to anything right now, especially not from him. He needed a way to subdue him that wouldn’t hurt him.

He held his breath, waiting intently for a sign, a footstep, a blur in the reflections of the mirrors. He crouched on the ground, looked through the space underneath the stalls. 

Two grey eyes looked back at him.

He had never reacted so quickly in his life. He spoke so fast he almost botched the spell, and he sent it flying through the space towards the blond. The spell collided with a curse Draco had sent the same way. Harry then leapt up onto his feet, thinking fast. 

He hid in the opposite corner, his body protected by a pillar of pipes rising towards the ceiling. While he couldn’t see Draco from here, he had a clear view of the sinks and the mirrors above them. He waited silently, barely daring to breath. 

He saw a flash of blond, and a split second after he raised his wand.

“ _ Stupefy! _ ” He cried out, sending the spell forward, but Draco dodged it by a hair’s breadth, sending his own spell towards Harry. Harry blocked it easily, but he was starting to feel cornered. He couldn’t hurt Draco, but Draco was aiming to do worse to him. 

He dove out from the corner, blocking a barrage of curses Draco sent his way as he hid into an open stall. One of them ricocheted off his wand, flying towards a group of pipes crawling up the wall. Harry could hear the sound of the impact of magic on steel, and saw out of the corner of his eye as water began to spray out of the newly wrenched hole in the pipe. He needed time to think, he was running out of options.

He heard Draco’s footsteps approaching. They were getting progressively wetter as water pooled across the room from the broken pipes. Harry had about three seconds before he was done for. What could he do? He couldn’t do any serious damage to Draco even if in this moment he was his enemy.

The memory snapped in Harry’s mind so quickly he could barely hold onto it. 

_ For enemies. _

The Half Blood Prince had never strayed Harry wrong in the past. Harry closed his eyes and prayed to whoever was listening that he came through just one more time. 

When the footsteps were just paces away, he burst through the door. One moment he was looking at Draco’s stunned, scared eyes, the next-

“ _ Sectumsempra! _ ”

Harry could barely comprehend what he was seeing. He didn’t understand, what was wrong? What had happened?

Draco’s tall, lean body was lying on the wet floor, twitching and shaking as a way to try and escape the sudden, slashing pain he had experienced. His pale white skin was rapidly turning a sickly grey, and his shirt, slightly open, was revealing the reality Harry was faced with. 

Harry hadn’t meant to do this. He had just- He only wanted to…

“No- I didn’t… Draco-”

Harry dived to the floor. He didn’t know what to do but he knew he had to try something. He pressed his hands against the other’s chest as a way to prevent blood loss but all it did was make his hands and sleeves match the scarlet of his tie. It seemed endless. It stained his shirt, streamed down his arms, it mixed with the water around to create a sickening halo around his body.

Harry was beginning to panic. His hands were trembling so much he could barely hold his wand. He realized too late that he didn’t even know any useful spells he could use. Anything helpful he might have thought to do was wiped completely from his mind by the sight of what he had done. 

Suddenly the door swung open so forcibly behind him he heard it almost break off its hinges. Harry’s heart almost jumped out of his throat. He was going to be found and he would be expelled indefinitely. If not Azkaban. 

The sight of Snape’s hair and black cloak sweeping across the luminescence of the flooding bathroom only increased Harry’s danger of fainting on the spot in that moment. 

But Snape didn’t even look at him. If Harry didn’t know any better he couldn’t tell if the professor even knew he was there. Snape dove straight for Draco and began reciting a song-like incantation, tracing his wand across the wounds Harry had inflicted. 

Harry stood there in silence shivering from either the dampness of his clothes or the scene he was watching, the scene he had created. When Snape left to carry Draco’s sickeningly limp body to the hospital wing he ordered Harry to stay put and it did not occur to Harry for a second to disobey. After what had just happened he didn’t trust himself to move an inch. He stayed exactly where he was, not even daring to move his feet to avoid the bloodied water from seeping in his shoes through the soles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhh brooooo ikr ikr it's waaaaack  
> thank you so much for reading, if y'all enjoyed please leave a kudos and a comment, it takes like five seconds but it makes my whole day! we're going into the endgame now, only three chapters left!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THINGS ARE HEATING UP ANGST ROMANCE CONFESSIONS OMG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i know i know it's been so long and i feel terrible about it. The end of the semester came up like a train wreck and i really needed to take some time to focus on school and on my mental health. I had to remember that this is a hobby after all :)  
> Happy holidays, whatever you may celebrate, i hope you appreciate this chapter as a little gift from me to you! Love you all!

Every second Harry was left to stand in the middle of the flooding bathroom felt like it’s own interminable eternity. He kept imagining scenarios in his head, each one more hopeless than the last. There was no question about it, he would certainly be expelled, if not sent straight to Azkaban. 

A chill ran down his spine as memories of the dementors came to mind, but were quickly dismissed when Snape returned, a distasteful grin (the largest smile Harry had probably ever seen him make) planted on his nasty face.

When Harry heard the words “detention” and “Saturday” he was momentarily relieved, but he knew it couldn't be that easy. 

It wasn’t.

“But-” it dawned on Harry, “Quidditch is this Saturday.”

“What a shame.” Snape sneered. “Looks like Gryffindor will have to find a new Seeker if they are to play.”

Harry was going to argue, but he noticed the water around his feet had taken a pink tint, and he had to swallow some vomit that came up his throat and into his mouth. He knew that there were much more important things right now than Quidditch. 

That still didn’t stop the white hot anger from coursing through his body. 

It was this anger that kept his mind clear and focused despite the panic that was jumping in his gut when Snape asked for his books. Snape, the git, hadn’t taught him Occlumency, and it hadn’t taken much for him to find the tattered copy of  _ Advanced Potion Making  _ in Harry’s memories. 

He sprinted towards Gryffindor Tower, scaring Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. He had forgotten about the blood that was soaking his hands and white shirt, but he didn’t have the time to worry about it. He needed to be quick if he was going to have the time to execute his plan.

“What on earth is going on?” Ron asked anxiously when Harry climbed through the portrait hole and practically accosted him in the common room. 

“I need…” Harry was panting, the adrenaline pushing his body further than his mind could keep up with, “I need your book. Your potions book.”

Ron went up to their dormitory without asking any other questions, leaving Ginny and Hermione and a whole common room full of concerned students to observe Harry. 

“I’ll explain later.” Harry was still regaining his breath. “I have to go to the Room of Requirement.”

“The Room of Requirement?” Asked Hermione. Harry wished he could enjoy one of the only times Hermione has looked confused. But at that moment Ron arrived with his copy of the potions textbook, and Harry tried to shove it in his book bag at the same time as he was half crawling, half falling out of the portrait hole. 

He took off at a sprint, past startled students, up the stairs and through a shortcut up to the seventh floor. A cool breeze howled down the empty corridor, and Harry whispered a quiet prayer of thanks for his luck.

_ I need somewhere to hide my book _ , Harry said in his head, not taking the time to rest,  _ I need somewhere to hide my book, I need somewhere to hide my book _ . Even after he had walked past the entrance the Room of Requirement three times, he kept repeating the phrase in his head. He hoped the castle would feel his unfiltered desperation and take pity on him.  _ Please don’t let what I did to Malfoy change anything, _ Harry thought

Harry then found it ironic, in a very unfunny way considering the circumstances, that when he opened the door into the Room of Requirement it led him to the large chamber of piled up rubbish and lost items into which he had followed Malfoy what seemed like ages ago. It was as if the castle was taunting him, reminding him that despite the actions he had committed against the Slytherin, he would be nowhere without him. 

“I’m trying to make it better.” Harry said aloud into the open space, hoping that some spirit or force within the castle could hear him.

He sped through the mountains of stuff that was piled around him, searching for a place where he could hide his book. He could sense Snape’s rising impatience. How long had it been since he left the bathroom? Through his panic Harry couldn’t recognize the passage of time at all. He began to walk faster.

He turned a corner and stopped in his tracks. He had somehow managed to make it to the exact spot he had followed Draco to all that time ago. He recognized the cupboard with the decorative bust of the unnamed old wizard on top. This was as could of a place as any. 

He placed his copy of  _ Advanced Potion Making _ in the cabinet among a few of (he hoped were) empty vials and a stack of molding parchment, and was about to leave when- 

“Where is he?” 

Harry froze in place, not daring to twitch, blink, or breathe. A deep, growling voice had said those words. Harry was terrified, mostly because the voice, albeit slightly muffled, was so close it was as if the person was standing right next to him. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and slowly turned his head and looked around him. There was no one there. 

“I don’t know! He said he would be waiting for us!” 

Another voice, rough and strong was heard loud and clear. Harry took his first breath since he had first heard the voices. He knew he wasn’t in immediate danger. But where were these people? How could he hear them?

“Gah!” This was a woman’s voice, high pitched and unhinged. “He’s buggered off, hasn’t he? Ungrateful little brat. Why was he chosen for this in the first place?”

Harry’s heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would snap his ribs. His hands balled into fists and his muscles began to twitch. Because he knew that voice. Bellatrix Lestrange was around him at this very moment. His head whipped around, he paced around the space, trying to sense where it was coming from. 

“Be careful, some might say you’re questioning the Lord’s will.” A fourth voice spoke. How many were there?

“Me?” Bellatrix’s voice sliced through the air like a curse. “Never! I just think that all of this would have been done a long time ago if a child wasn’t put in charge of this.” Suddenly a series of banging noises made Harry’s hair stand up on end. He definitely knew where the voices were coming from now. He turned towards the cupboard where he hid his book. 

No, it was coming from right next to it. The old wooden cabinet. Now that he inspected it closer he realized it wasn’t just any old piece of furniture, but a Vanishing Cabinet. He remembered a student the previous year had gotten stuck in it. But how could people be inside-

“There’s probably just a complication on the other side. The boy will fix it.” Harry couldn’t even keep track of all the voices. He didn’t need to. He knew that beyond that beyond that very thin barrier there were  _ several  _ Death Eaters, one of them the murderer of his godfather. 

Harry was running on anger and adrenaline, and he might have opened that ruddy cabinet at that very moment had he not heard what came next.

“Well he’d better hurry with it, hadn’t he?” Bellatrix said, irritated. Harry’s muscles tensed again. She sounded so close, as if they were all curled up inside that very cabinet. “He’s running out of time. I can’t wait to see the look on Severus’ face when he sees us!”

At the mention of Snape’s name, Harry was torn. He knew Snape was waiting for him in the bathroom, and the longer he took the worse the outcome would be for him. On the other hand, Death Eaters were in this cabinet and waiting for Draco, who would never come. 

Luckily Harry didn’t have to make a decision. 

“Clearly there is still something that must be fixed.” This voice belonged to an old man. Harry felt like he knew the owner, but through the haze of panic and adrenaline he couldn’t quite place it. “Climb out of there, the boy still has some work to do.” 

“The Dark Lord won’t be pleased to hear that.” One of the male voices said over the sound of footsteps on wooden floor. 

“Maybe he needs a little more incentive.” Bellatrix said playfully. Harry didn’t have to know what she was talking about to realize that he wouldn’t wish whatever thoughts were in her head on even his worst enemy. Especially not Draco. 

_ Draco _ . Harry knew that the Slytherin was working on something that had to do with Voldemort and the Death Eaters’ activities, but he didn’t realize how entrenched Draco was in whatever was going on. Pieces started to fall into place. Draco’s visit to Borgin and Burke's in the summer, his disappearances, how tired and scared he looked. But it still didn’t fit with the necklace and the encounter they had in The Three Broomsticks, nor did it explain the wine and Ron’s poisoning. 

For what seemed like the millionth time this year, Harry needed to speak to Malfoy again.

Harry paused in the room of requirement, waiting to hear if any more voices came from the Vanishing Cabinet, but it was completely silent, as if no one had been inside it at all.

Harry began to retrace his steps back to the entrance. He needed to meet Snape back in the restroom soon unless he wanted a much worse punishment. Then he needed to see Draco as soon as possible. Whatever was going on, it was coming to an end tonight.

* * *

Despite how exhausted Harry’s body felt, he didn’t dare fall asleep. He was lying sequestered in his four poster bed where he had been since he brought his bag to be inspected by Snape, hardly daring to move.

Both Ron and Hermione were extremely concerned for him. They had observed him in many awkward and dangerous scenarios, but completely covered in blood in broad daylight in the castle had not been one of them before today. But Harry revealed little to no details about what had happened. Partly because he didn’t even know where to begin. He had to speak to Draco first and come to the bottom of this by himself, if anyone else got involved everything he had been working towards all year would be lost. But that wasn’t all. There was no way of telling teh truth about the events of what had happened in the bathroom without exposing himself and the Half Blood Prince. He would have to admit that he had used Dark Magic and actually seriously hurt someone else. It hadn’t been his intention, but he couldn’t stand to see Hermione’s face when he basically proved her point about the questionable origins and morals of the Half Blood Prince. Plus, he would have to tell Ginny and the rest of the team that he couldn’t play in one of their final Quidditch matches, and he knew he would get a metric fuck ton of shit for that. 

While he was ready to accept responsibility for what he had done, he wasn’t ready face the judgement of everyone else. First, he needed to speak to Draco. 

He spent hours turning different scenarios over in his head. How would Draco react when he saw him? Would he be completely indifferent, ignoring all of his attempts to apologize and brush off his existence entirely? Or would he hex him on the spot, swearing revenge for the pain Harry had put him through? The more Harry thought about it the more anxiety built up inside him. He couldn’t stand if Draco distanced himself more, so he didn’t know what he would do if they were to return to being enemies. 

_ Were you ever anything other than enemies? _ A voice pressed in his head. Harry didn’t want to delve into the answer to that too much. 

When he was sure that everyone in his dormitory was asleep, he dug his Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk and snuck out down the spiral staircase and through the portrait hole. 

Soundlessly he made his way through the dark corridors. Thankfully spring was well underway, and he was no longer shivering in the cold drafts the snow had brought into the castle in the winter. He quickly made his way to the Hospital Wing, breathing through his anxiety the entire way. 

It wasn’t until Harry stepped up to the large double doors when he realized that the last night he and Draco had been here together was the night they kissed. He swallowed his anxiety, trying to keep his head clear from memories of that night. 

Not removing his Invisibility Cloak, he tried to open the doors as subtly as he could. Despite how careful he tried to be he couldn’t help but wince when the old oak door sent out a low groan that echoed throughout the hall. Carefully he stepped through.

“Come to finish me off?”

Harry’s heart jumped into his throat. He swiftly pulled his wand out of his pocket and searched the dimly lit hall for the source of the voice. 

The only occupied bed in the whole room belonged to the blond, who was sitting upright, the wand in his hand pointed in Harry’s direction. 

“Every time you move it’s like Nifflers in a jewelry store.” Harry could tell Malfoy was suppressing the urge to roll his eyes so he could keep his gaze locked on the space where he believed Harry to be. “You’ve never been able to hide from me.”

Harry suppressed the urge to rebuke, stifling the list of numerous occasions he knew for a fact the Slytherin didn’t know about in his throat. But what he did do, against his better judgement, was slowly remove the Invisibility Cloak.

“There he is,” Draco said with mock surprise, “The Boy Who Lived turned to Dark Magic, now, has he?”

“I-” Harry was stammering. He knew Draco was taking the piss out of him, but he honestly was horrified at what he had done. This was more serious than the petty theatrics of the past few weeks. One of them could have almost died, and it was pretty obvious, to Harry at least, which one of them it would have been. He approached the bed in which Draco was lying. “I- I didn’t mean to, I swear. You know I wouldn’t- I would never-”

“You can stop your groveling.” Draco attempted to stand with the authority to end the conversation, but his injuries hindered him. He hissed through his teeth in pain and clutched his chest with his arm, using the other to balance himself on the railing of his bed. Harry winced, reminded of the bloody scene from earlier that day.

“At least let me apologize.” Harry knew he would never be able to live this down unless he had a chance to say everything he wanted to say, but considering this was Draco Malfoy he was talking to he would be lucky if he had a chance to say anything at all. 

“I know it takes a few tries for anything to enter that thick skull of yours, Potter-” Harry didn’t even have the chance to argue- “but what have I been telling you this whole time?”

The blond approached him, grimacing through his pain with every step.

“You can’t apologize. You can’t help me. You can’t save me. We’re on two different sides.” He had pushed Harry back until they were in the middle of the big hall.

“We don’t have to be-”

“You don’t get it!” Malfoy’s voice rang out in the empty space. Harry flinched, his body moving without his permission. He tried to stifle it, but it was too late, Malfoy had already noticed. He lowered his voice, but the intensity of his words were still as sharp as a sword. “How have you survived this long when you’re so ignorant? I don’t know what that old git is telling you, but a war is starting. The Dark Lord has risen and his supporters are growing. You can feel it in the air. Even regular wizards and witches can tell that times are changing. The Ministry itself is crawling with his supporters!”

Harry was stunned into silence. How could he respond to that? Every instinct in his body told him to ignore what Malfoy was saying, that he must be lying. But how could he refute something he himself had suspected to be true? 

“Bet you didn’t know that, did you?” Malfoy sneered, but he wasn’t enjoying it. He was more serious than Harry had ever seen him. “Things are worse than you probably think. But of course, Dumbledore isn’t going to tell you that because he still wants you to believe you have a chance.”

“A chance to what?” Harry hated that he was the one asking all the questions. As much as he wanted to argue with Malfoy that he wasn’t stupid, he felt more ignorant now than he had when he first arrived into the wizarding world. Why hadn’t Dumbledore told him more? 

“A chance to win.” Even when he was slouching, crippled by his injuries, Malfoy was looking down at Harry. “A chance to change people’s minds.”

“We succeeded.” Harry said, trying to regain his footing in the argument. “We exposed everything that happened at the Ministry, we proved to everyone that Volde-”

“Shut up!” Malfoy moved so fast Harry barely had time to understand what was happening. Despite his injuries the Slytherin pounced on Harry with the speed of a spell. One hand grabbed Harry's shoulder and came down on his mouth, stifling his words. Harry tried to protest, he tried to prize the hand off of his mouth, frantically pushing the other body away. 

“Don’t say his name you idiot!” Malfoy whispered, alarmed. Harry looked into the other’s eyes and immediately stopped. Draco’s eyes, open wide like an animal, were laced with pure terror. The sight sent shivers down Harry’s back. 

He relaxed his body and as soon as Malfoy felt the muscles of the boy in his arms soften he immediately let go, taking a few steps back. Both of them took a few deep breaths, recovering from the upheaval. 

Suddenly, Malfoy grimaced with pain, grabbing his torso as if he was trying to keep everything inside from spilling out. He slowly returned to his bed, sitting on the edge and taking sharp breaths through his teeth. 

“Well,” Malfoy said, resuming the conversation as if nothing had happened, probably to recover from his moment of weakness, “it doesn’t work like that. You can’t just change people’s minds. People believe what they want to believe. People can’t just change.” 

Harry took in the scene before him. The disheveled blond hair, the pale skin almost translucent with the moonlight reflecting off of the light layer of sweat. Harry desperately wanted to comfort the other boy. But how could he do that when he’s the reason he was here?

Harry instead slowly and carefully took a seat at the end of the bed, just a few feet from the blond.

“What are you doing?” Malfoy asked. If he had had the strength he probably would have been more defensive. 

“I’m proving you wrong.” Harry said as sincerely as possible. “You tell yourself you’re a horrible person. You convince yourself that you can’t be changed. But if you really were such a horrible person, wouldn’t you have completed your plan by now?”

“What do you know about that?” Malfoy retorted with no hesitation.

Harry picked his next words very carefully.

“I know about the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement. And I know what it’s for.”

“You don’t know anything-”

“I heard their voices.” Harry said firmly. There was no way Malfoy was going to weasel his way out of this one. This was ending, here and now. “Don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about because I went there and I heard them and I know what you’ve been trying to do.”

Harry tried to read Malfoy’s facial expression, but a wall had gone up. He couldn’t tell what the blond was thinking at all. It scared him slightly.

“So what are you going to do?” Malfoy said, emotionlessly, daring Harry to challenge him. “Report me? Tell Dumbledore? Send me to detention?”

“No.” Harry responded, calmly. “I’m going to help you.”

“What?”

Finally, it was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes. “Don’t sound so confused. You’ve been trying to tell me not to since the term started.”

“You can’t-”

“If we actually try we can figure something out so that the Death Eaters-”

“Stop it!” Malfoy closed his eyes firmly, running his hands over his eyes and through his hair in frustration. “This isn’t a game, Harry. This isn’t a silly little adventure you’re going on with your friends. This is real. I could-” he couldn’t even meet Harry’s eyes, “I could… My family could be in danger. You could be in danger.”

“I’m always in danger.”

“Potter, stop being a twat, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“I’m not even entertaining this conversation anymore.” Malfoy tried to get up, but before he had even moved his face twisted in pain, his body screaming in protest. He slumped back, giving up, but sending a look as sharp as daggers towards Harry. “You have to leave now.”

“We have to talk about this.”

“I’m not answering your questions any more.”

“Why?”

“Does there have to be a reason? You’re being stupid. We can’t talk anymore, and if you keep pushing me you’re going to regret it.” Despite the threat, Malfoy wasn’t fighting as aggressively as he was before. It was as if all his energy had been consumed by the sheer struggle of keeping his body from falling apart, that he didn’t have enough to argue. Harry thought that perhaps that’s what he needed to get to the bottom of this. 

“Can’t talk anymore?” Harry continued. “We’ve never talked, why do you think we haven’t gotten anywhere after all these months?”

“Because I can’t let that happen!” Malfoy said urgently, speaking out of frustration from fatigue and pain. “We can’t be together.”

Harry was almost physically taken aback by the words. He hadn’t expected those words to affect as much as they did. 

“What do you mean? Like… at all?”

“What are you on about?” Malfoy had his fingers to the inner corners of his eyes, either as a way to avoid eye contact or to ease the pain, Harry couldn’t tell. “Of course we can’t. Who do you think we are?”

Harry took a deep breath, feeling the anger race through his veins from his brain to the rest of his body. 

“Then what was the kiss all about?”

“What?” Dark grey eyes met sharp green, neither of them standing down.

“You kissed  _ me _ .” Harry’s voice started to rise. “You wanted  _ me _ . And then you just turn your back and ignore it?”

If Malfoy was surprised then he didn’t show it. He shot back with no hesitation.

“Because you’re too good for me-”

“Stop punishing yourself! How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t deserve it. You’re allowed to accept help and be happy.” Harry’s blood was roaring in his ears. Heat was rising through his skin and he had to hold himself back from launching towards the blond. 

“We can’t be together because I’m dangerous!”

“You’re not dangerous! You just tell yourself that so you don’t have to face the fact that you’re-”

Harry was so caught up in his anger he didn’t notice strong hands grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer. The next thing he saw was Draco’s pale face, frustrated and desperate.

“Harry, I have to kill you.”

“I-” Harry’s heart pounded so loudly in the silence he swore he could hear it ringing in the silence, “what?”

“The more we talk, the more  _ you _ get involved, the more jeopardy it puts you in.” Draco lowered his voice to a whisper. “You know I have a job to do, and if you get in the way, it’s my job to kill you.”

Harry was more confused than ever. 

“I don’t understand.”

“Finally, you’ve arrived at that conclusion yourself.”

Suddenly Harry’s brain caught up with what was happening in the real world. This can’t be true. If that was the case he should have been dead long ago. 

“Why haven’t you done it already? You’ve had plenty of opportunities.”

Draco’s face, which this whole time has either been twisted from pain or grimacing from frustration, now fell. His grip softened on the front of Harry’s shirt, and Harry couldn’t help but lean into it, craving those arms to tie him down to reality.

“Really? You have to ask?”

Harry opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He felt like he was in an exam and didn’t know any of the answers.

“Potter, you absolute git, I’m in love with you. I have been for… so long.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHH ikr isnt this fuckin wild, only two chapter left to go my friends. If you enjoyed don't forget to leave a kudos and comment, it would be an amazing christmas gift i would cherish a lot, and remember to stay safe and have fun! love u guys sm!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, if you made this far, thank you so much! If you liked it, please leave a like and a comment, it makes my day! I hope y'all are staying safe out there, remember to take care of yourselves!


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